


The witchers' invasion of Kaer Morhen

by Ledgea



Series: The witchers' grapevine [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: All my witchers are bisexual, Bets & Wagers, Cat School (The Witcher), Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Multi, Porn in chapter 5, Stupidity, They're way beyond that point now!, Vesemir is done, Weddings, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Witchers hooking up with each other, You thought my Cats were stupid before ?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 34,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26092918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ledgea/pseuds/Ledgea
Summary: Geralt finally takes a step forward, Jaskier follows him and sidesteps Lil'Bleater who's happily running around the room. The table seems to be in chaos, with the Cats roughhousing together, the Bears stealing from plates, the Vipers just protecting their drinks and Coën and the Wolves all looking over the disaster. Vesemir seems pretty annoyed to Jaskier and the bard sits down between Coën and Eskel after greeting everybody hurriedly.Sequel to The witchers' stalker and The bard's daughter.
Relationships: Aiden/Coën/Lambert (The Witcher), Cirilla & Witchers, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Witchers & Witchers, Witchers/Witchers
Series: The witchers' grapevine [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794697
Comments: 116
Kudos: 183
Collections: Polyamorous Relationships For the Win





	1. 1 : 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to you, reader!
> 
> This story is the new sequel to The bard's daughter and I really hope you'll like it!
> 
> I'll divide it in two parts : part 1already written : 3 chapters + 2 interludes (1 if I don't feel confident enough to post the porn I've written, still not decided) ; part 2 that I need to finish : 3 chapters + 1 interlude (2 if I go around writing that other porn and feel confident enough about posting it.)
> 
> The story is going to be cracky, there's not much plot either, it's mostly about witchers doing stupid things together and hooking up with one another. But I had so much fun writing it!
> 
> So if you've come here expecting witchers to do some serious important witchery stuff, that is probably not the fic for you. If you've come here for witchers being stupid, then you're in the right place ;p
> 
> Have a good read!

Vesemir receives the invitation at the beginning of the summer. He's fleeing the keep and the moody sorceress Geralt left there, and decides to go down the mountain to visit the closest village. Cirilla, who Geralt also left at the keep, invites herself along and he watches her expertly maneuver her horse on the trail.

He likes Cirilla. She's a bright young energetic girl. She loves to learn, loves to train and she apparently likes him too. He definitely developped a soft spot for her. He has watched her practice magic for the last few months with Yennefer and according to the sorceress she's good at it. He hopes she's right.

But she's still a child and sometimes all the learning and training tires her. She's been a bit bad-tempered and rude for the last few days and has decided that a small journey would do her good. So Vesemir acquired a travelling companion.

It takes them five days to reach the village and Cirilla immediately heads for the tavern. Vesemir lets her go and goes to see one of the farmers. He acquires some honey, jam and orders some fruits and vegetables to be put aside for him after the harvest. He pays half the price up front and promises to come back in autumn to collect his order.

He has plans to head south with Cirilla at the end of summer anyway and will pick everything up on his way home. He's supposed to bring her to Geralt, at the border of Kaedwen and Aedirn, so that the two of them can travel back up to Kaer Morhen via a scenic route in the fall while Vesemir plans to head straight back north to prepare the keep for the winter.

When he's about to leave, he spots several hens in the farmer's courtyard and asks if the man would be willing to part with two of them. They bargain for a few minutes and Vesemir finally leaves with his two young hens safely tucked away in a wooden cage.

He'll probably kill one or two of the old ones this winter to feed his hungry family. He noticed that Coën quite liked poultry last winter and he has no doubt that Lambert's two husbands will come back again.

“Vesemir !”, Cirilla yells for him and comes running, “I've got a letter ! And there's one for you too ! At the tavern !”

“A letter ?”, Vesemit asks, puzzled, and wonders who would write to them.

“Yes. It's in a nice envelope too. Can I open it ?”

“Sure. It's your letter after all.”

Cirilla tears the letter open as they walk back towards the tavern and she lets out a small disappointed sigh when she's done reading it.

“What is it ?”, Vesemir asks and ties his horse next to Cirilla's mount in front of the tavern.

“It's from Coën. He's inviting me to his wedding to Aiden and Lambert over winter. Do they have to get married again ?”, she asks with a whine.

Vesemir hums and enters the tavern too. Ciri overtakes him on the way to the bar and presents him with a tankard full of beer and a letter. Vesemir thanks her gruffly and grumbles internally because he doesn't need a little girl to pay for his drink.

Vesemir then heads for an out of the way table and lets Cirilla mingle in the small crowd. He takes a sip of his beer, opens the letter, reads it and frowns at it.

Like Cirilla said, it's an invitation to the three idiots' new wedding. He wonders who the Griffin thinks he is to invite Vesemir to his own keep during winter. It's utterly ridiculous. But at least he knows for sure that they'll be back and he can increase the provisions accordingly. 

He tucks the letter inside his light leather armor and lets out a long suffering sigh when unrest starts to manifest in the crowd Cirilla's lost in. He has a feeling she's stealing again, and that would explain why she wanted to pay for Vesemir's drink.

He finishes his drink in a hurry, goes back to the bar, asks for six bottles of wine and six bottles of beer, pays for his purchase and heads out of the tavern. Cirilla joins him as he's putting away the last two bottles in the horses' saddlebags.

“You're done ?”, he grunts at her and she nods at him with a big smile.

They get back in the saddle and leave the village. They forage for edible food on their way back too and when he sees the attention Cirilla pays to the plants, he vows to show her his garden and his small greenhouse. She could probably help him to dry and pickle his harvest.

It turns out that Cirilla quite likes working in the kitchen. And jumping out of the kitchen's window each and every time Vesemir asks her to fetch something outside too. It's a bit exhausting to watch to be honest.

They manage to pickle a good portion of his harvest, dry some meat too and the two pantries are slowly but surely getting filled. They still will have to hunt in the winter but they'll be comfortable for a while. 

Yennefer abandons them a week before he is set to depart with Cirilla and he wishes her a safe journey. They mostly got along, with one or two minor spats about autonomy and informing your host of your latest projects if you were going to blow up a wall. He still doesn't know what the sorceress was trying to do with that wall. He'll sure be glad to have a little bit of peace and quiet when he'll return from his trip south though, before his mentees come back home.

After Yennefer leaves, Vesemir prepares the keep for their absence. He installs an enclosure in a field in one of the valleys behind Kaer Morhen and then commandeers Cirilla's help to move the goats and the fowl down there. They'll have enough to eat and he'll just have to catch them again when he comes back.

They harvest some more fruits and vegetables, leave plants to dry in the kitchen and finally check their horses before their departure. Everything seems to be in order and Vesemir leads Cirilla out of the keep again at the end of summer.

They make quick progress south and Vesemir has the pleasure to discover that Cirilla truly is a nice and useful travel companion. He had heard about her journey with the other witchers and about all the skills she supposedly developped, and he is glad to be able to experience the truth of it too.

The further south they go, the more Cirilla gets excited to see Geralt again and Vesemir starts to find her exhausting again. Still nice but exhausting. He wonders why he was the one to end up as a babysitter. 

They stop at an inn after they pass Ard Carraigh and Vesemir is astonished when the owner tells him of three other witchers who passed through two days ago. It's weird and too early yet for Lambert to head home. He wonders if he should turn back but when the innkeeper assures him that the men didn't seem hurt, he decides to continue south. It's probably Lambert and his husbands looking for some easy contracts not far from home then.

But then he hears several new mentions of witchers passing through towns and villages as they progress south and he doesn't know what to make of them. It's like all the witchers left are converging north for the winter. He sincerely hopes not to find his keep invaded when he comes back or there'll be hell to pay. He babysitted Cirilla, Yennefer and Eskel's damn goat the whole year, he better not have to take care of unfamiliar witchers during winter too or he's going on strike.

When they finally reach the village at the border, Geralt is already there and Cirilla immediately runs up to him. They seem happy to see each other again and Vesemir smiles at them as they hug. And then Jaskier pops up from behind Geralt and Vesemir sighs. He's starting to have a bad feeling about this winter.

“Jaskier,” he greets the man, “Didn't you say last winter that you wanted to try your luck at Oxenfurt again ?”

“Hello Vesemir. Yes, well my plans changed. I got Coën's invitation to his wedding so here am I. And you know what ? He wants me to perform the ceremony !”

Jaskier announces the last sentence with a big grin and a wink and Vesemir sighs again. So it really is going to be one of _those_ winters.

He greets Geralt when the Wolf finally dares to let his daughter go and refuse his invitation to stay for supper. He hugs Cirilla one last time and turns his horse back north. If he throws it into a gallop a few minutes out of the village, nobody's there to see it.

He avoids villages and towns on his way back to Kaer Morhen, so that he won't have to hear about witchers roaming Kaedwen, and hurries home. Unfortunately his luck doesn't hold and he stumbles upon the damn Caravan of the Cats.

One of their carts has veered off the road and is half in a ditch. Five witchers are trying to push it back on the road, while four others and a man are keeping their horses calm. They all stop what they are doing when they see him pass and he hears some of their excited whispers.

“Oh, sweet Melitele, look at that, it's the ghost !”

“The ghost exists !”

“Fuck, I owe Letho some money now. If I kill him, does it count as him not ever existing ?”

Vesemir snarls at the stupid Cat and lets go of the reins of his horse to grab a dagger. He doesn't like his odds against the whole Caravan but he won't go down without a fight either. Another Cat then gets up from behind the cart, slaps the head of the offending witcher and says to him :

“Who the fuck taught you your manners Zorn ? That would just be bad form !”

He then heads towards him and Vesemir tenses.

“Well met Wolf,” the man greets him with a smirk, “Don't pay attention to this idiot, he doesn't know what he's saying half of the time.”

Vesemir nods at the witcher and urges his horse forward. The Cat blocks his path and takes a hold of his reins.

“So we're a bit stuck here, as you can see, do you fancy helping us ? We'll offer you dinner in exchange.”

“No thanks,” Vesemir grunts, “I'm in a hurry.”

“Of course, of course. Preparing the keep for the winter ?”

Vesemir narrows his eyes at the Cat but he didn't sound threatening, just smug and a bit annoyed. And Vesemir knows for sure now that they are headed to Kaer Morhen. Coën, the fucking idiot who will be mucking the stables all winter long, apparently just had to invite them. Probably because they are what passes as the closest thing to Aiden's family. He barely suppresses a groan.

“Then let us offer you some help for making your keep ready. Someone bring the deadweight !”, the witcher yells at the other Cats.

And three of them scramble up and head for a cart with grins on their faces and a spring in their step. They come back with an old witcher sprawled in their arms. The leader motions at Vesemir and the dozing witcher - _what the hell ?_ \- is deposited on his horse behind him.

Vesemir tenses, the old Cat mumbles a tired sleepy _What ?_ behind him before hugging him around the waist and clinging. A small bag is stuffed into his own saddlebags and the Cats offer him some smirks.

“That's Prethr, our elder,” the witcher still blocking his path says, “He's a great help, you'll see !”

And then one of the witchers slaps his horse's rear, the one before him steps aside and Vesemir leaves at a gallop. He tries to throw the Cat off but the man is a heavy clinger, even if he still seems asleep, and so Vesemir resigns himself to travel with an unwanted companion. He's still not really sure why or how he acquired him and hopes to ditch him in a few days.

Sadly his travel companion turns out to be quite adept at staying with Vesemir, not that he knows how the man does it. He spends most of his days dozing against Vesemir's back and he undertands why the Cats named him deadweight. Prethr eats, drinks, shits, pisses, bathes, dozes and sleeps. And that's all. He's driving Vesemir mad.

And despite the fact that the witcher is quiet and lazy as fuck, he still manages to cling to Vesemir every morning just before they are set to depart. After a week of travel, he is starting to wonder if he wouldn't be better off just disposing of him.

But then he remembers the Cats, who are fucking heading north, and decides that he doesn't want to risk the Caravan's ire. So he lugs the damn octopus all the way north, collects the fruits and vegetables he ordered a few months ago and heads back to Kaer Morhen.

He tries to leave Prethr at the bottom of the trail, he really does, but as always the Cat turns out to be rather resilient and Vesemir continues on with his unwanted guest. He's almost sure that the rest of the Cats will come to Kaer Morhen too, and he wonders if he could forbide them to enter or if they would prove too stubborn to listen too and trample him on their way in. 

He'll think about it if and when it'll come to pass, no use worrying about it too soon. Especially as he has another reason to be concerned. There are fresh tracks on the trail leading to Kaer Morhen. He thinks that the tracks were left by three horses but he doubts that Lambert, Aiden and Coën already passed through. He spends the three days it takes them to reach the keep in a state of unrest.

He and Prethr finally arrive at Kaer Morhen in the evening after three long days on the mountain, and the first things he hears are a fire crackling and three men's voices. Unfamiliar ones. He gets off his horse to enter the keep, lets Prethr slump on the saddle and peers around the gate. He spots three witchers sitting around a fire in the courtyard and lets out a sigh.

They raise their heads as they see him approach and Vesemir knows that he's already capitulated in front of this winter's weirdness when his first thought is not about throwing the three witchers out of his keep, but about wether or not he'll find Lil' Bleater in their stew. He doesn't look forward to deal with Eskel if the three men ate his beloved goat.

Vesemir grunts at them in greeting and heads for the stables. He unceremoniously dumps Prethr on the ground and then takes care of his horse. The thee witchers are waiting for him when he comes back out. They're Vipers he notes absentedly.

“Hello,” one of them greets him, “I'm Auckes. The two grumps behind me are Letho and Serrit. Coën said to give you this upon our arrival !”

And Auckes hands him three envelopes with a big smile on his stupid face. Vesemir lets his bags fall to the floor, takes the proffered items, reads them and groans at the Vipers. Of course these are wedding invitations. Of fucking course.

“What did you put in your stew ?”, he then asks.

“Some wild boar we found in the forest, why ?”

Vesemir lets out a tiny sigh of relief and motions for the tree witchers to follow him inside. The biggest lugs their cauldron behind him and they relocate to the kitchen. They put the cauldron in the fireplace and Vesemir motions at the Vipers to take a place at the table. They all sit and Vesemir turns to the cupboards to fetch two plates and some cutlery. When he turns back around the useless Cat witcher is sprawled in Vesemir's seat. 

“For fuck's sake,” he exclaims and kicks him off his seat.

He could have sworn that Prethr was still lying in the courtyard. The Cat smirks at him and steals his plate. Vesemir narrows his eyes at him and decides that he'll put him in a room next to Lambert. He'll see if the deadweight will still feel smug after the three nightmares come home. 

The Vipers soon start their conversation again and Vesemir eats in silence. He already feels tired and winter hasn't even begun yet. He'll probably take a sabbatical the next year, that feels like a wonderful idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS : I don't know why but the Caravan always seems to end up in a ditch in my fics... One would think that they would be better at driving carts by now...
> 
> See you soon!


	2. 1 : 2

When a squire finds Letho at the beginning of the summer, he expects a summon from a noble about some sort of monster. Instead the young boy shakes in front of his scowl and hands him a freaking letter. Letho doesn't receive letters. He takes it gingerly, sniffs it and finally tears it open.

He reads the contents with disbelief and scoffs at the wedding invitation it contains. Apparently the three shitheads are getting married over winter in the Wolves' keep and Coën only asks for his presence and that he brings some supplies and show a modicum of respect for their hosts. The Griffin has to have hit his head, Letho decides.

“Do you need a reply ?”, he grunts at the kid.

“No, master witcher,” the boy whispers back, “But I have two other letters for hum... Auckes and Serrit ? And I was wondering if... Well... Do you know where I could find them ?”

“Give them to me,” he orders, “I'm meeting them in a month. I'll pass the letters along.”

“Oh, thank you, master witcher. That's really kind of you.”

Letho grunts at the kid and takes his brothers' letters. He tucks them in his saddlebags and watches the squire scurry back. He shakes his head and wonders what the world is coming to if witchers get invited to weddings now.

When he finds his brothers a month later, Auckes is elated at the news and Serrit is as puzzled as him. Letho can only sympathize with the latter.

“We're totally going !”, Auckes announces and if Letho was mean, he would say that his brother seems as excited at the prospect of this wedding as a seven year old girl.

“Do we have to ?”, Serrit asks dubiously, “I mean we're not really close to any of them.”

“ _I_ happen to like Coën,” Auckes says, “and it'll be a nice interlude. We'll be able to relax for once, instead of slumming it in some shitty village.”

“But Wolves,” Serrit whines, “They're not exactly friendly.”

“I'm sure that everything will be fine. And I heard that they let Aiden spend a winter there, so I don't see why they would throw us out. Come on Letho, don't you have a bet running with Zorn about the reality of Kaer Morhen's ghost ?”

“Yeah,” Letho sighs and capitulates in front of his brother's excitement, “Okay, fine. I'm going with you. Serrit ?”

“Do I have to ?”

“Please ?”, Auckes cajoles and their brother capitulates too.

“Gods, I hope that their shithole is stocked with booze,” Letho says and stuffs his letter back in his armor, “otherwise this winter will be unbearably long.”

“I hear you, brother,” Serrit agrees and they share a toast over their fire.

* * *

Ivo gets his invitation at the end of the summer and quickly forgets about it. He doesn't plan to attend and doesn't even understand why he was invited, he was always polite but it wasn't like he went out of his way to appear approachable. Heyn finds him two weeks later.

“So Ivo, dear brother, are you invited to the wedding of the century too ?”

“I'm not your brother.”

“Right, I forgot that you were still in denial about that. Are you going though ?”

“No.”

“But Ivooooo,” Heyn whines and he just wants to deck him, “The infamous Wolves' keep ! The moutains ! The ghost ! The addled one ! The grumpy one ! _Come on_. You can't say that you aren't at least a little bit curious !”

“No.”

“Come with me ? Come with me ? Come with me ? Come with me ?”

Ivo punches him in the nose and watches him curse in pain. That still doesn't stop Heyn from tailing him and, without even meaning to, they end up in Kaedwen in autumn and slowly make their way north. And if Ivo stops at one or two fields to steal some cabbages or leeks, well, he'll tell anyone who asks that it was Heyn who did it.

* * *

Lambert stares dumbly at the letter a shaking squire just delivered to him. At his side Aiden is laughing softly at his own letter.

“Are we... Does he... I mean, is he serious ?”, Lambert asks, baffled, “Is Coën truly inviting _us_ to _our_ own wedding ?”

“It seems so,” Aiden agrees and he sounds like Coën just did something terribly sensible, “I mean it's nice of him to warn us. And he even added a postscriptum to let us know that supplies are welcome.”

“Stop sounding so reasonable !”

“What ? I find it nice.”

“But it's _our_ fucking wedding. We shouldn't have to be invited to it !”

“Well, I could have decided to go winter at the brothel with the Cats this year. It's nice to know that I'm expected in Kaer Morhen instead.”

“You're not allowed to go winter with the Cats again if we have a perfectly nice bed waiting for us in Kaer Morhen !”, Lambert exclaims.

“I'm not allowed, am I ?”, Aiden asks and there's an edge to his voice, one Lambert doesn't hear often.

“I mean... Uh... I'd prefer it if you wouldn't ?”, Lambert flounders, “Of course, if you really wanted to, it would be your choice... But Coën and I, we'd miss you. Terribly.”

“Sweet little Wolf,” Aiden croons with a smile and pats his cheek.

Lambert snarls at him.

“Don't worry,” Aiden continues, “We're meeting him in a week. You can rant at him then, darling.”

“Oh, fuck you. That is not normal and you won't convince me otherwise !”

* * *

Eskel takes one look at the poor trembling squire in front of him and sighs. He gently asks him what he wants and the kid silently hands him a letter. Before Eskel can ask what this is about, the squire runs out of the tavern.

Eskel stares bemusedly at the letter and opens it quickly. He groans when he reads the contents and wonders how much shit Lambert would give him if he just decided to skip Kaer Morhen this winter. It probably wasn't worth the trouble he would end up in, sadly.

So Eskel resolves himself to track down one or two sacks of potatoes and to slowly make his way north. He'll whine to Vesemir about Lambert when he'll arrive, and see what kind of revenge he and Geralt can come up with.

* * *

When a serving maid comes knocking at Jaskier's door an hour before he is set to begin his performance, he wonders if he'll have the chance to enjoy a nice bout of relaxing sex with her. Alas, it is not to be and the blushing woman informs him that a squire in service of a small temerian noble is asking for him in the hall.

He follows the maid downstairs and heads for the man waiting for him. He's young and nervously looking left and right. Jaskier introduces himself and the young man hands him a letter.

“Do you know if the witcher Geralt of Rivia is nearby, master bard ?”, he asks hopefully.

“He's taking care of a contract for the alderman. He should be back in a few hours.”

“Perfect. Can I bother you with his letter too ? If you could kindly give it to him when he comes back ?”

“Yes, of course.”

The man then hands him a second letter and disappears in a hurry. Jaskier looks at the door bemusedly and takes a seat at the bar. He orders a beer and tears his letter open. To his surprise, it is from Coën. Jaskier wonders what the Griffin did to have his letters delivered by a noble's squire.

He grins as he reads the contents and finds the fact that the Griffin took the time to pen some wedding invitations nice and cute. He is a little flabbergasted though, but clearly flattered, that Coën would ask him to perform the ceremony and Jaskier already thinks about altering his winter's plans.

He had wanted to go to Oxenfurt but officiating a wedding clearly sounds more interesting. It'll be his first ceremony too, but he couldn't do worse than Lambert's marriage last year. At least nobody will have to offer themselves this time around. He carefully tucks the letters in his doublet when the time for his performance comes and hopes Geralt will be back soon, he can't wait to see his face when he gets his own letter.

As it turns out Geralt comes back in the middle of Jaskier's show, stays just long enough in the dining hall for one rendition of _Toss a coin_ and then disappears upstairs to their room. Jaskier joins him when he's done and finds him relaxing in the bath.

“Geralt, dear ? I've got a letter for you,” he announces with a smile.

Jaskier then hands him his letter and sits behind him to take care of his hair. He's combing his friend's hair when he hears him splutter and Jaskier chuckles.

“Aren't you delighted by the news ?”, Jaskier asks him cheekily.

“I was actually looking forward to a nice quiet winter,” Geralt grumbles, “And they have to go and ruin it.”

“It's one small ceremony, Geralt, they're not ruining the whole winter !”

“One ceremony, then we have to watch them stare longingly at each other all winter long, hear them fuck each other and they'll think that they'll be on a fucking _honeymoon_. They'll be unbearable !”

“You're being dramatic,” Jaskier notes and pats his shoulder.

“And there's a plus one to my invitation. Why is there a plus one ? For you ?”

“No, I got my own invitation,” Jaskier says with a pensive frown, “Maybe for Yennefer ?”

“Yennefer ?”, Geralt asks and he sounds disbelieving, “Should I ask her to come ?”

“Fuck, don't ask me ! I don't know what's going on between you and her. Are you still on speaking terms at least ?”

“I think ?”, Geralt says and he sounds so unsure.

“Well, you can always try to ask then !”, he says brightly because he doesn't like to see his friend miserable.

Geralt actually contacts Yennefer two days later through a xenovox. And Jaskier winces from his place a little ways away from the witcher when he hears the sorceress tear into his friend, because he apparently dared to presume that she wouldn't have better things to do over winter. Their conversation devolves into a shouting match before Geralt stuffs the xenovox back in his saddlebag with an angry huff.

“Well, I guess that means that you're not on speaking terms anymore then,” Jaskier comments carefully.

Geralt just grunts, doesn't answer him and goes to sleep. Jaskier sighs because he knows that the witcher will be surlier than ever in the days to come. He really should have told Geralt to ignore the mentionned plus one, it would have been for the best, he muses. He vows to make himself discreet for a few days, to let his friend calm down, and quickly lies down too, he has a feeling he's going to be woken up at dawn and wants to enjoy a good night's sleep while he still can.

* * *

When Del points at a tree one summer evening, all the Caravan turns towards it and they all can hear a small frightened squeak. Mal stalks towards said tree and comes back with a boy. He catches him by his neck and drags him towards a fire. He then lets him go and watches Jayn loom threateningly over him.

“What do you want ?”, Mal grunts at him.

He fully expects the young man dressed as a noble's squire to tell him that their services are required by the lord or lady he is serving, and is stunned when instead he offers him a stack of letters.

“There is one for each of you, my Lord,” the squire mumbles and disappears in a hurry once Mal takes hold of the letters.

He lets him get away because they'll easily be able to catch him if he proves dangerous, and hands out the letters to everyone. He keeps Vanni's and Wyff's, who are out on contracts, and tears his own open. He reads it a first time and then rereads it to be sure he completely understood what Coën shared with them, closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh.

He can already hear the hushed but excited whispers of the other Cats and he just knows that they'll have to head north, the others won't resist the opportunity offered to them. So they'll have to veer off course right now to visit the brothel before heading to Kaer Morhen and they still have a contract to take care of in Vengerberg and Mal just knows that the exhausting task of organizing everything will fall to him.

“Can we go ?”, Berwyn asks, “Please ?”

“I vote for !”, Zorn exclaims and the other witchers all agree with him.

“So you don't want to winter with the whore this year ?”, Mal asks with a mean smile.

“He's coming with us,” Pierre says with a shrug like Mal should have thought about this.

“No,” Mal disagrees, “I'm not lugging him all the way north.”

“Yes,” Del agrees, “Seyn clearly needs some vacation.”

“No,” Mal replies.

“Yes,” Prethr agrees too from the back of the cart where he is dozing.

“Nobody asked you, deadweight,” Mal yells back.

Mal rants and moans and grumbles for a month but, when they end up at the brothel at the beginning of autumn, the first sentence out of Pierre's mouth is still an invitation to go on a fucking _vacation_ with them over winter. To be fair, Seyn refuses, states that he can't just abandon the girls working for him and invites them in to share a meal.

The whore informs them that two contracts were deposited for them two months ago at the brothel and Mal and Jayn accompany him upstairs after supper to check it out. He hands them two parchments with a smirk and Mal sighs when he sees that they are two assassination contracts ordered by spouses on each other.

“They were delivered in the span of a week,” Seyn announces with a smirk, “I was told that the sooner you would be able to take care of it, the better it would be. Apparently the baron and the baroness just can't stand each other.”

The fact that Seyn clearly isn't bothered by their occupation still astonishes Mal after all these years they've known each other and he hums at him.

“Is there something that would tilt the balance in one of them's favour ?”, Mal asks with a small frown.

“I don't think so,” Seyn answers, “I asked around and apparently it's just a mundane case of an arranged marriage where the two spouses can't stand each other. There's a child though and the messengers asked if you could avoid killing one his parents in front of him.”

“The baron's paying better,” Jayn remarks levelly.

“You're right,” Mal agrees, “We'll fake the baron's death then, collect the baroness' payment, dispose of her and then collect the baron's payment.”

“I like that,” Jayn says with a smirk, “It's a two man job then though.”

“Yes. I'll go and I'll take Vanni with me, he's good with nobility.”

Jayn and Seyn shrug and they all leave the office. They head for their respective rooms and Mal takes note to wake up at dawn, he has a visit to pay to the mayor of the town. Mal indeed wakes up before dawn and sneaks out of the brothel. He heads to the mayor's house and creeps into the man's bedroom.

He wakes him up with the tip of his dagger and the man falls out of bed in fright. Mal smirks at him and sheathes his blade. He then informs him that the Caravan won't spend the winter at the brothel but that they'll come back in spring and threatens him within an inch of his life if _anything_ were to happen to the workers under their protection.

It's been a few years since they had to discipline an unruly client, but it had been a frequent occupation of theirs the first two winters they spent in the village. And Mal doesn't want to come back to abused whores or a burned building, he wouldn't be able to bear the other Cats' bitching and they would be forced to go on a rampage to make a point.

The mayor nods at him and stutteringly promises him to keep an eye on the brothel over winter. Mal leaves satisfied and finds Jayn waiting for him on the front porch of the mayor's house. The other Cat is wearing a smug smirk and Mal points threateningly at him, nobody needs to know that he actually _gives a shit_. That's between him and himself.

When they arrive back at the brothel, he finds Seyn and some bags in the courtyard with the Cats and he groans.

“No,” Mal says when he draws near Seyn.

“Yes,” Pierre pipes up behind him and Mal knows that it's a lost cause.

“I thought that you didn't want to leave the girls alone ?”, Mal asks.

“Emial overheard us yesterday and forced me to go,” the whore says with a shrug, “I'm banned from the brothel until spring.”

“And we can't just abandon him outside,” Pierre continues.

“No,” Mal repeats with a sigh even as Berwyn puts Seyn's bags in the back of a cart.

“By the way,” Vanni says with a grin, “Do you think that we need to bring a dowry or a bride price for Aiden ? We couldn't agree with each other yesterday evening.”

“By the Gods, you're worse than a bunch of gossiping old crones,” Mal sighs and adds with a smirk, “We'll bring a dowry to Coën and offer the Wolves a bride price for Lambert. That should do it.”

“Nice,” Vanni agrees, “What shall it be ?”

“Ask me again in a few days. I need to think about it.”

And think about it he does. It's a good idea and they'll be able to fuck with the three lovebirds. But first he has to concentrate on the contract. He and Vanni have decided to leave for Ellander two weeks after their departure from the brothel and Mal gives his last orders on the evening they are set to go.

“You're to go north, we'll join you when we're done. Try to collect some supplies along the way, wine, beans, grain, some fucking apples and whatnot.”

“Who's in charge ?”, Jayn then asks.

Mal watches every Cat attentivly and doesn't know who to choose. Not Jayn, he swore never again, not the deadweight and certainly not Pierre, the last time he was in charge he lead the whole Caravan into a lake, Mal still doesn't know how he did it.

“The whore's in charge,” he finally announces.

“Really ?”, Seyn squeaks from Berwyn's lap where he's sprawled.

Mal hums and nods, he knows that if they run into trouble, Jayn will take charge but the whore should keep them on the right path for a while. Mal doesn't want to come back to another disaster of a Caravan, he knows what the Cats are capable of. Nobody contradicts him and Mal relaxes against the boulder he's leaning on.

“Oh, and I have one last task for you,” Mal adds with a smirk and the Cats all stare at him with attention, “I want you to find the four ugliest and most bullheaded goats of the Continent. Two for Aiden's dowry and two for the damn Wolf's bride price.”

“That's a bit mean,” Seyn remarks with a smile.

“That's exactly what they deserve for what they put us through,” Wyff contradicts him.

“Yes,” Del continues and laughs, “We all know that they're not worth more !”

The Cats all laugh, raise their mugs and toast each other in agreement. Mal smirks when he hears some bets being made about Aiden's, Coën's and Lambert's future reactions to the goats and he soon heads to bed, he wants to get up early tomorrow morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :p
> 
> See you soon!!


	3. 1 : 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the final chapter of the first part.  
> The interludes are next!

When Eskel reaches the beginning of the trail leading up to Kaer Morhen, he finds tracks. A lot of tracks actually, some from carts and he wonders who would be stupid enough to try to climb a freaking moutain trail with them. He knows that they won't be able to make it to the top, the path is too narrow, too steep or riddled with stones that you can skirt with a horse but not with a cart.

He still follows the trail and watches the tracks go up and up and up. He stares baffled at the first boulder emerging from the path, goes around it easily and finds the carts' tracks again on its other side. He doesn't understand.

And then a day and a half away from the keep, he hears someone yelling and cursing. He frowns and wonders who it could be. It doesn't sound like anyone he knows and he hopes that he won't stumble upon a new invading force. It turns out to be worse.

The first thing he sees is a goat. An ugly as fuck goat with patches of fur and a horn missing. The animal is slowly trotting down the moutain and Eskel catches it. It has a leash attached to a collar and Eskel holds him far away from him because the goat _reeks_. And then a witcher comes running down the moutain after it too.

“You fucking four-legged devil, daughter of a whorish troll, I swear that when... Oh ! You caught her !”, the freaking Cat exclaims when he happens upon Eskel, “Thanks.”

Eskel nods and hands the leash back to the witcher without a word. He really wonders what a Cat is doing here.

“So, we haven't met before. I'm Vanni and you are ?”, the witcher asks with a smile and starts to forcefully tug the goat back up the moutain.

“Eskel,” he answers warily and follows the man up the trail.

It takes them a few minutes to catch up to the source of the yelling and Eskel takes in the disaster they just stumble upon. Several witchers are carrying a cart over a boulder lying in the middle of the road, a man bundled in way too many layers of clothes holds what he recognizes as Lambert's and Coën's horses and three more goats next to him – a one-eyed one, a three-legged one and what looks like to be a tired buck, where the fuck did they find such _ugly_ ones ? – and a witcher is shouting himself hoarse behind the cart carrying ones. Eskel wants to turn back.

Unfortunately he is soon spotted by what looks like to be the whole damn Caravan of the Cats and almost a dozen stares are directed at him. Eskel takes a step back and Lambert waves at him from where he is shouldering one part of the cart.

“Uh, I don't know you,” the yelling one says and stares at his facial scars, “You can leave your horse with the whore and shoulder the back of the cart with Vanni, it should help.”

The man who's holding Lambert's horse steps forward with a small smile and Eskel doesn't know what to do, it's not as if he wants to follow an unknown Cat's orders. And then Lambert grunts, slips backwards and the whole cart lurches.

“Lambert ! I swear that if you let go I'm throwing all of our apples down the fucking moutain !”, the Cat yells again as Eskel steps forward reflexively and takes hold of the cart, “Now you lazy asswipes, fucking push !”

“Not my apples !”, Eskel hears Aiden shout back and he rolls his eyes, trust the Cat to have his priorities straight.

They all grunt together, push forward and finally pass the damn boulder. They deposit the cart back on the narrow path and Eskel goes to greet Lambert. They hug and Eskel really tries to ignore the background noises, something about a goat who wants to leave and one who doesn't want to move.

“What the fuck is happening here ?”, he whispers to his brother.

“Coën invited every witcher still alive to our wedding,” Lambert explains.

“Oh crap. Where is he by the way ?”

“Further up,” Lambert says and points towards another cart being carried over another boulder, “You can rant at him later.”

“And what the hell is happening here ?”

“The Cats are idiots ? That's the only logical explanation. Welcome to hell.”

Eskel rolls his eyes at Lambert's stupid grin and turns to hug Aiden when the Cat suddenly appears beside them, he'll go give Coën a piece of his mind later. And then without really knowing how he got to this point, Eskel ends up helping the Caravan move on the path.

He gets yelled at for the rest of the afternoon by the Cat who's excuse for not helping is that he's got a _splinter_ in his hand and collapses on the ground next to Coën in the evening. He didn't think that carrying carts up a mountain could be so exhausting.

Luckily the Cats feed him, and Del and Seyn – that is the man's name – take care of his horse. He wonders where he'll sleep as the night starts to fall and decides to bunk with Lambert and his husbands, he's not feeling like sleeping next to the freaking Cats.

When he finds the cart they claimed as theirs, Coën is softly speaking to a potted plant, reassuring it that they'll soon reach Kaer Morhen, and wrapping its pot in furs, while Aiden sharpens some blades and Lambert watches them from where he's sprawled. Eskel unceremoniously throws his bedroll at them. He gets up in the cart, Lambert groans and Eskel obnoxiously settles next to his brother.

“Fuck off,” Lambert says, “That's our cart !”

“Nope. I'm not sleeping outside with the _Cats_ , Lambert. And anyway, the yelling one is still staring at me creepily.”

“The yelling one is named Mal,” Aiden informs him with a smile, “and he likes scars.”

“Lovely,” Eskel says sarcastically, “Still not moving.”

“For fuck's sake, Eskel,” Lambert groans, “Do you want me to hold your hand too ?”

“No thanks, I don't know when you washed it for the last time.”

“Asshole.”

“Can you remind me why we are following Mal's orders again ?”

“Because nobody wants Mal bitching at them,” Lambert answers as Eskel scoffs, “He can nag worse than an old crone.”

Eskel lets out a small disgusted noise.

“He's already bitching !”

“Believe it or not,” Aiden says with a smirk, “It can get worse !”

“And who's fucking  _brilliant_ idea was it to climb up a mountain trail with carts in the first place ?”, Eskel asks again.

“No one's apparently,” Coën says with a smile.

“Nobody wants to claim the idea as theirs,” Aiden agrees, “and nobody's pointing fingers either, so that means that it was Mal's but that he managed to make it seem like it wasn't and everybody stupidly agreed to it.”

“I hate the Cats,” Eskel grumbles and turns and tosses to find a comfortable position to sleep in.

“Don't worry,” Lambert says and pats his shoulder, “I'm pretty sure the Cats hate themselves too right now.”

It takes them two and a half more days to reach Kaer Morhen - instead of one ! - and Eskel is so glad to finally arrive home that he would weep tears of joy if he wasn't so exhausted. They lost several hours running after the three-legged goat which had run off into the night – and Eskel still doesn't understand how she manages to be so sneaky with only _three legs_ -, had to carry the buck on their shoulders for an entire day because he refused to move, and of course had to bear the weight of the seven carts over several boulders again.

So when they arrive at the gates of Kaer Morhen and Eskel sees Vesemir waiting for them, he doesn't hesitate, steps forward and hugs his mentor tight. It seems like he can feel his sanity coming back to him slowly and he lets out a relieved sigh against his shoulder. Lambert then elbows him out of the way and Eskel growls at him before he steps aside. It's good to be home.

* * *

They hear the Caravan of the Cats long before they see it and Vesemir watches with bemusement as the Vipers suddenly decide that they just need to organize a hunting trip. He lets them go and takes a stand at the keep's gates. Prethr appears as the first cart comes into view – and who the _fuck_ goes up a mountain with carts ? - and Vesemir stares at the organized chaos coming his way.

He is surprised to see Eskel and Lambert with the Caravan and eagerly returns his oldest mentee's greeting hug, it seems that the journey took his toll on him. He greets Lambert and Aiden warmly too and then pinches Coën's right ear between his fingers when the Griffin draws near.

“What did you think you were doing ?”, Vesemir then growls at him and twists his earlobe.

Coën squeaks, gets out of the hold and takes a few steps back. He massages his ear and Vesemir glares at him.

“I invited our brothers to spend the winter with us ?”, Coën says slowly and hides behind Aiden.

“And how will that be conclusive to a nice peaceful winter ?”

“It's not supposed to be peaceful,” Coën continues, “It's supposed to make everyone that matters acknowledge our bond and has the added benefit to socialize you standoffish Wolves.”

“You could have warned me,” Vesemir still grumbles.

“No,” Coën says and then winces, “I mean, there was a good chance you would have said no. And it's a nice surprise ! The Cats brought potatoes ?”

Vesemir rolls his eyes as the Griffin tries to confuse him, and finally turns towards the Cats who are watching them with smirks on their lips. Vesemir dislikes them. The man in the front comes forward and offers him his arm, Vesemir clasps it warily.

“I'm Mal. We didn't get the chance to get acquainted when we last crossed paths.”

“You can have your deadweight back, by the way,” Vesemir says, grabs Prethr's shoulder and shoves him at Mal, “I don't think that you can find a more useless witcher on this entire continent.”

“Thanks,” Mal says drily, “Now, seeing as we're here for a wedding, as Aiden's family, we brought gifts.”

The sharp grin Mal offers him makes Vesemir's skin crawl and he wonders if he shouldn't just stab whatever the Cats are going to give him. A man – and what is a man doing with the Cats ? - approaches and tugs three ugly goats forward. Another witcher deposits a buck at his feet and it immediately decides to go to sleep.

“What the fuck is _that_?”, he asks, completely bewildered.

“Don't be an asshole, Mal,” Aiden intervenes, “You're not going to gift these ! I don't even know why you got them in the first place !”

“Stay out of it, Aiden,” Mal says and waves the Cat away, “As Aiden's family, we wanted to offer you Wolves a bride price for Lambert, so here is one buck and one goat.”

“What ?”, Lambert indignantly squawks.

Vesemir ignores the commotion the youngest Wolf is causing behind him and stupidly stares at the offering. The buck could be dead if it wasn't for his slow breathing and the goat only has three legs and tries to bite at his pants when she approaches. These two _will_ probably end up in a stew, he muses, contrary to Lil' Bleater.

“You know what ?”, Vesemir sighs and says drily because he likes to fuck with his mentees sometimes too, “They'll probably be as, if not more, useful as Lambert over winter anyway. Thanks.”

“You ugly fuckers !”, Lambert roars behind him, “I'm going to bash your heads in ! Both of you !”

When Vesemir turns back, he shakes his head at Lambert, who's being restrained by Aiden and Coën, and just snorts. Eskel is off to the side looking onto the commotion with an amused smirk.

“You can always try, _Pup_ ,” Vesemir drawls and is happy to see Lambert work himself into a frenzy.

“You're _welcome_ to try,” Mal purrs at him.

“Let me go, you two ! Just wait and see !”

“Lambert, what you do with Vesemir is your own business,” Aiden then says while holding his husband's arm tightly, “but just remember that we don't spar with Mal anymore !”

“Bashing some heads in isn't sparring ! Goats, Aiden !”

“Just remember how it'll all end up ! Lambert !”

“I'm not planning to end up tied up to his bed this time !”

Vesemir closes his eyes at that and pinches the bridge of his nose, the things he never asked to know and is forced to hear anyway... When he turns back towards the Cat, Mal is stroking his now unsheathed sword and openly leering at the one – Two ? Three ? - idiot behind him.

“What about the other two ?”, Vesemir then grunts.

“These are for Coën. They're Aiden's dowry !”, Mal explains with a smirk.

“Motherfucker !” Lambert bellows and comes barrelling past him, Aiden hot on his heels.

They tackle Mal onto the floor and all go down in an uncoordinated mess of limbs. Coën comes to stand beside him and he looks _fond_ , Vesemir will never understand him.

“You take care of the mess,” Vesemir grunts at him, “You know where the stables for their horses and the pantries for their supplies are and the damn carts can stay in the courtyard. Don't put the goats in with Lil' Bleater, I'm not saving you from Eskel's wrath otherwise. And you can set them all up on the second floor.”

“Me ?”, Coën squeaks and Vesemir offers him a mean smile.

“Take care of _your_ guests, Griffin. I'll be in the kitchen.”

He pats Coën's shoulder as he walks away and unrepentantly leaves him to deal with the mess he created. He sees Eskel throw one last look towards the pile of struggling witchers on the ground before he heads to the stables. He hopes that the Vipers' hunting session will be successful, they'll probably need the extra meat in the next few days.

* * *

When Jaskier, Geralt and Cirilla finally reach the trail leading up to Kaer Morhen one evening, they're completely surprised to meet Heyn and Ivo camping at the beginning of it. Cirilla jumps down from her horse as soon as she sees them and Jaskier smiles when Geralt lets out a small noise of protest.

He leaves Geralt's side too and goes to greet the two witchers. Cirilla is happily conversing with Heyn and Jaskier accepts the waterskin Ivo hands him with a nod.

“And here you have the brooding master, Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier introduces his friend with an over-the-top bow.

Heyn laughs and Ivo offers him a small smile in return. He sits down at their fire and motions for Geralt to come closer. The witcher listens to him and stomps closer with a scowl firmly set upon his face.

“Don't mind him,” Jaskier excuses Geralt, “He's naturally grumpy. So what are you doing here ?”

“Coën invited us to his wedding,” Heyn explains and hands Cirilla some soup without being prompted.

“Oh, you too ! We can head up to Kaer Morhen together tomorrow,” Cirilla chirps.

Geralt grunts at his side and Jaskier pats his shoulder, his friend will just have to come to terms with the fact that they're going to have to share this winter.

“Not tomorrow,” Ivo contradicts her, “We're waiting at least one more day before going up.”

“Why ?”, Jaskier wonders, “Are you waiting for someone else ?”

“Oh, no,” Heyn says with a smirk, “but the Cats are just ahead of us. Their tracks were fresh when we arrived two days ago and we don't want to catch up to them, hence the waiting.”

“The Cats are coming too ?”, Ciri squeals in delight.

Jaskier shares an appalled stare with Geralt at the news and he hopes that the Cats will make themselves scarce at least, he doesn't want to have to watch his back all winter long.

“And I think the Vipers too,” Ivo adds carefully.

“Auckes !”, Ciri exclaims, “Can I steal his purse when I see him next ? Geralt ?”

“Do what you want,” he grunts and shrugs.

They end up waiting another day and camping together again because nobody seems to want to help the Cats who decided to climb the mountain with their bloody carts. Jaskier will never understand the reasonning behind _that_ decision.

Cirilla spends the next day sparring with the Bears, playing her frightening game of _I spy_ with Heyn and asks the witchers for stories once she begins to tire. Jaskier discreetly joins her at that, takes a piece of parchment and some ink out of his bag and carefully listens. Ivo tends to be as laconic as Geralt but Heyn clearly likes having an interested audience and recounts some of his best hunts with a truly impressive amount of details.

Geralt spends the evening brooding next to the fire and watches him and Cirilla raptly as if he thinks that the Bears would hurt them. He's clearly uncomfortable around the other witchers but is working on himself to not appear overbearing and upset Cirilla who really seems glad to see them again. Jaskier thinks it's sweet.

Their journey on the path up to Kaer Morhen ends up being peaceful, even if Jaskier sometimes catches Ivo sighing wearily at his and Cirilla's slowness. It still takes them four days to reach Kaer Morhen but at least they don't happen upon any Cats.

Cirilla tugs the Bears to the stables as soon as they cross the gates and Jaskier and Geralt follow behind them. Jaskier collides with Geralt's back when the witcher suddenly comes to a halt on the stables' doorstep and when he peers around his friend to see what spooked him, he sighs. The stables are packed with unfamiliar horses and Geralt clearly wasn't expecting the sight of it.

Jaskier gently tugs him forward and encourages him to take care of Roach as Cirilla and the Bears settle their own horses. Then they head up to the keep proper and Jaskier lets out a contented sigh when he enters the entrance hall. They leave their bags there and Geralt has to tug him away from the kitchen when he wants to enter it.

“What ?”, he asks the witcher testily because he's _hungry_.

“They're not here. The noise is coming from the great hall.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says slowly and follows Geralt further down the corridor.

He saw the great hall in passing the first time Geralt brought him to Kaer Morhen but it had been unused, Vesemir prefering for everyone to eat in the small kitchen instead of the too large room. But he supposes that with almost twenty witchers in attendance, it was a good idea to open up the great hall again.

They end up at the end of the corridor and Cirilla saunters forward to push the door open. She lets it crash agaisnt the wall dramatically before running inside.

“Auckes !”, she shouts and runs up to said witcher.

The Viper catches her with a laugh as she flings herself onto him, they hug and Cirilla then runs around the table to greet the rest of the witchers. The Bears shoulder past them, go up the table to greet Vesemir and then take a seat too. Jaskier hops from one foot to another next to Geralt and waits for him to decide if he's going to brave the room full of witchers.

He finally takes a step forward. Jaskier follows him and sidesteps Lil'Bleater who's happily running around the room. The table seems to be in chaos, with the Cats roughhousing together, the Bears stealing from plates, the Vipers just protecting their drinks and Coën and the Wolves all looking over the disaster. Vesemir seems pretty annoyed to Jaskier and the bard sits down between Coën and Eskel after greeting everybody hurriedly.

Geralt dislodges Lambert from his seat and the youngest Wolf just plops down into Coën's lap. Cirilla stays near Auckes and food soon starts to appear in front of them. Jaskier tucks in with gusto.

“So, interesting winter so far ?”, Jaskier asks Eskel around a mouthful.

“Exhausting,” Eskel replies, “You can't go a day without at least one brawl.”

Jaskier hums, he easily believes Eskel.

“Is that a fork sticking out Wyff's hand ?”, Jaskier then asks.

“Yeah,” Eskel replies with a long suffering sigh, “Letho took offense when he tried to steal from his plate. And then Berwyn bet him that he couldn't keep the fork in his hand for the whole supper and here we are.”

“Ah,” Jaskier comments because he doesn't really know what to say to that, “Oh, this one isn't a witcher.”

“No, that's Seyn, human. He's the Cats' friend ? Lover ? Caretaker ? _Babysitter_? Something like that. Just be careful with him, the Cats are overly protective.”

“Noted, thanks. You holding up okay though, right ? Vesemir too ?”

“It's fine,” Eskel answers gruffly, “They can be oddly useful when they're not trying to be obnoxious on purpose, I suppose.”

“That's good to know. And Cirilla will be glad to spend a winter with everyone too.”

And then he hears Coën stick his foot in his mouth.

“So Geralt, no Yennefer ?”

Jaskier chokes on his food, vehemently tugs on the Griffin's sleeve and tries to make him understand silently that he should let this topic go right now. Geralt glares at Coën and Jaskier sees his grip on his cutlery tighten.

“Got dumped ?”, Aiden asks sympathetically.

Geralt grunts and Jaskier closes his eyes.

“Speaking from experience...,” Aiden continues wisely.

“When will you finally let _this_ go ?”, Lambert interrupts him, whining.

“... it can happen to the best of us,” Aiden finishes while ignoring Lambert.

Jaskier isn't surprised when Geralt throws himself at the Cat and he watches the two of them roll on the floor. Berwyn leaps on Geralt's back and Eskel on the Cat's and it then dissolves into a huge brawl. Vesemir soon steps up and starts to yell at the fighters and then Mal gets up too and shouts at everybody and Cirilla hops on the table and encourages Geralt. Jaskier laughs at the sight.

“Sensitive topic ?”, Coën then asks him with a grimace.

“You don't even know,” Jaskier answers and watches him join the fray to help Aiden get out of Serrit's hold, his winter is going to be eventful, he can already feel it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Eskel again... I'm really feeling a bit bad about what I'm putting him through!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!  
> Thank you everyone for your kudos and your nice comments!


	4. 1 : Interlude 1 : Botany

When Aiden and Lambert finally reach Coën for the two weeks they plan to enjoy together, the Wolf is elated to see the Griffin again, but that doesn't stop him from ranting at him about the wedding's invitations.

Coën just nods, exchanges a few smiles with Aiden and Lambert lets the matter drop with a huff, he won't manage to convince them that it was stupid, so he'll just have to find someone else to complain to, maybe Eskel or Geralt over winter. If Lambert got an invitation, he is sure that Coën didn't resist sending one to his brothers too and that they'll be as unimpressed by it as him. It'll make for a great bonding time.

So Lambert quickly forgets about the whole matter and just decides to enjoy the moment. They spend a week camping next to a lake, fishing, hunting, foraging for food, swimming, playing Gwent and generally just being happy. They have sex every evening, some mornings, sometimes in the afternoons too, and it's probably one of the best times of Lambert's life.

And then Aiden has to ruin it. And Lambert would like for it to be known that it wasn't his fault, for once. Not that he would have done any better, but well it  _wasn't_ him.

It all starts on the afternoon of their eighth day of camping. They're low on food again so Coën volunteers to go foraging, because he actually likes picking up plants, Lambert leaves to hunt, and Aiden is supposed to start a soup with some leftover mushrooms where they'll dump most of their findings when they'll come back.

But when Lambert comes back, he hears some angry shouts as he nears the camp, and by the time he reaches it, Coën is angrily pacing around while Aiden stirs their soup with a vaguely guilty look on his face. Lambert approaches them warily, wonders if _he_ did something wrong – because let's be honest, he has a record of doing stupid and sometimes upsetting things – and finishes to prepare the four rabbits he caught before dumping them in pieces in the soup.

“What happened ?”, Lambert whispers to Aiden after a few minutes of looking at his two husbands perplexedly.

“I put Coën's plant into the soup,” Aiden murmurs back and points at the shattered clay pot lying a few meters from them.

“And ? Wasn't it supposed to end up in a soup ? Or did he want to use it to season meat or something ?”

Aiden grimaces and Lambert hears Coën growl behind him.

“It was... his pet ?”

“It wasn't my pet, asshole !”, Coën interrupts them, “It was my plant. It was a gift from a kid I saved a few weeks ago and wasn't supposed to be _eaten_ at all !”

“Did I just dump the meat in a poisonned soup ?”, Lambert asks, aghast, and glares at the pot.

“No, it's edible” Coën answers, “The problem here is that it was _my_ plant, that I cared for and intented to keep, and Aiden just decided to throw it in the soup without even asking !”

He finishes his sentence shouting and Lambert winces.

“How was I supposed to know you kept a plant that wasn't supposed to be eaten ? It seems completely counterproductive !”

Lambert doesn't say anything, because when he first saw Coën's little plant, he had thought that it was something they'd get to eat too, but he doesn't want to end up on the Griffin's bad side either. He watches Coën shout at Aiden a bit more before he goes back to his pacing.

Maybe they should have asked, Lambert muses, or taken more of an interested in their husband's new hobby instead of assuming. And Lambert knows that Coën likes plants and botany, he even had had proof on it, he just didn't think that it would lead the Griffin to adopt one.

Lambert's good with plants, all witchers are really, knowing what you can eat and what will make you sick is a priceless skill, but Coën's unfairly talented. He has a knack for memorizing the shapes and the properties of even the scarcest of plants, knows exactly where to find anything and whereas Lambert tends to know things mostly about the flora of the northern kingdoms, Coën's interest lies with the flora of the whole continent.

The Griffin had confided to them that he often had been found in the gardens when he had had a moment of freedom in his training years. He had helped in the vegetable garden, and in the later years, he had even brought some new types of plants, flowers or vegetables, back from his travels to Kaer Seren and had enjoyed watching them grow as the years passed.

So yes, maybe they should have asked and been more careful, but how were they to know that Coën's plant was purely ornamental ? Travelling with something that's not useful goes against everything they were taught, but then it's true that they aren't exactly following guidelines anymore.

Aiden stays silent for the rest of the evening and Lambert coaxes Coën to sit down with them and to eat something for supper. The Griffin glares at his bowl, glares at the Cat and Lambert is afraid he'll leave because he's so upset. It wouldn't be the first time Lambert would see him disappear annoyed and angry at one of his stupid decisions. He's just not used to not being the one at fault and doesn't really know what to do.

They end up eating in silence and Aiden then disappears to do the dishes. Lambert watches Coën prepare himself to sleep and is just so relieved when the Griffin doesn't take his bedroll away from theirs. He still rearranges their setting so that Lambert ends up in the middle, instead of Aiden as last night, but he's still here.

Lambert decides to lie down next to the Griffin before Aiden comes back in the hope to make things less awkward, and tenses when the Cat slowly walks back towards them. Aiden doesn't comment, undresses in silence, keeps his smallclothes on for the first night since they reunited and plasters himself against Lambert's front. He only notices that he is still tense when Coën finally rolls over, comes to rest against his back and he finally relaxes.

The mood doesn't lighten in the next three days and Lambert now senses that Aiden really did something that upset Coën badly. He still doesn't exactly understand why, because to him it was just a _plant_ , but then he too has a few trinkets – safely tucked away in Kaer Morhen – that he would be loathe to lose.

He's nonetheless immeasurably relieved that Coën is still with them, even if only as a mostly silent and grunting shadow. They abandon their spot near the lake the day after the incident and slowly head east.

Lambert's still in the middle in their sleeping arrangements, and barely resists shouting in triumph, when, two days after they left, Coën throws an arm over his waist and his hand finds and grips Aiden's over his stomach. They're still not speaking but they'll get there, eventually.

He's almost sure that a few years ago, they already would have called it quits and separated angry with one another. Lambert's so proud of their growth, even if Aiden's and Coën's behaviour reminds him of the beginning of their relationship, when they shared him and mostly cohabited without interacting together much.

So when on the third day Lambert spots an herborist's shop, he steers Coën towards the settlement's tavern, catches Aiden's eye and points at said shop behind the Griffin's back. Aiden nods and leaves them alone. Lambert hopes that they'll have something that Aiden will be able to use as a good I'm-sorry-gift.

Meanwhile Lambert and Coën settle at one of the tavern's tables and are served two not so shitty pints of ale. They drink in silence, and even if it's a bit more comfortable than with Aiden present, it's still not Lambert's favorite way to pass the time.

He bravely refrains from joining the other patrons, because he knows himself and is sure that he wouldn't resist initiating a brawl, and he doesn't want to end up on the Griffin's bad side too, the man probably would end up fleeing then.

When they finish their pints and Aiden still hasn't joined them, Lambert starts to worry. He wonders what is taking the Cat so long and then hopes that he will not go overboard. Lambert doesn't want to end up pulling a cart full of plants for a few months and then up to Kaer Morhen. He grimaces, orders a new pint and lets his head fall on the table. He should have gone to the herborist instead. He should have.

The tavern's door opens and closes and Lambert hears footsteps approaching. He doesn't dare raise his head. Two small pots are deposited on the table, between Lambert and Coën, someone sits next to him and he finally decides to take a look.

Aiden is sitting next to him, tense and looking at Coën, the Griffin is staring at the Cat's offerings and two clay pots containing one plant each are innocently sitting on the table. Lambert recognizes the first, it's some sort of succulent plant, but the other is unknown to him.

He thinks that he saw it briefly once in the south of Toussaint, it's green, has some sort of thick leafless stem and is covered in sharp spines. Lambert wonders why Aiden would choose such a monstruosity to gift to Coën.

“The herborist said that they're sturdy plants and don't need much water. And they're not edible. I thought that they'd be good travel companions.”

“Thanks,” Coën whispers and craddles the atrocity's pot in his hands.

“Apparently this one can grow a flower in the right conditions,” Aiden adds quietly.

“I know.”

“What is it ?”, Lambert then asks because he needs to know.

“It's a cactus,” Coën answers with a small smile, “It can be found in south Toussaint or Nilfgaard.”

“It's ugly as fuck,” Lambert comments because it really _is_.

“Don't insult my baby,” Coën snaps and Lambert raises his hands in a placating gesture.

Aiden smiles, pats his arm, steals his ale and gets comfortable. Coën smiles softly at them and examines his two new plants thoroughly. At least he likes them, Lambert muses. And when in the evening, Coën takes his place in the middle and allows them to cuddle him, Lambert is so glad that they're almost back to normal that he silently vows to take care of the freaking plants forever.

He makes a note to ask Vesemir if the old Wolf can show his small garden to Coën over winter too, not that they'll be able to do much in it, but it'll probably cheer the Griffin up and Lambert likes to see his husbands happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Featuring angry Coën, no-brain-cell-at-all Aiden and fluffy Lambert (because he can be fluffy sometimes!)
> 
> And Lambert doesn't know what a cactus is because... I said so ? Totally valid reason (I couldn't think of another plant easy to travel with...)


	5. 1 : Interlude 2 : Mal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact : this was actually the first chapter I wrote for this new fic :D
> 
> Porn ahead :D

Lambert doesn't know how he ended up in this situation. That is in a rather nice brothel's room, with a naked Aiden sitting on the edge of the bed and a clothed Mal attaching ropes to the slatted headboard. And worst of all, he's considering joining Aiden and letting Mal tie him up too. He's blaming everything on Aiden.

Everything began a week ago. Aiden dragged him to the Caravan to say hello, for the second time now, and they agreed to travel with them for a while. And four days later, a grinning Mal offered to spar with them. Lambert accepted the challenge eagerly and Aiden backed him up.

Aiden went first and Lambert watched the two Cats fight with great delight. They tended to be faster and sneakier than him and Lambert took note to watch his legs and to be wary of Mal's parries. 

Mal ended up winning and Aiden left the fight with a long bleeding gash on his left arm. It wasn't deep but the way the other Cat stared at the wound made Lambert uncomfortable. Aiden seemed to take the weird behaviour in strike though and slapped Lambert's shoulder when he passed by him.

Lambert took position in the designated arena between four trees, and let Mal attack first. It turned out that the Cat really was fast. And he wasn't going easy on Lambert either, not that he wanted him to ge easy in the first place, but he wouldn't have said no to a few minutes of lazy strikes to warm up.

He discovered quickly that in a spar with Mal nothing was banned. Lambert was almost sure that he would have lost a finger if he hadn't dodged in a hurry a few minutes in, and he forgot about his manners when Mal gave him a long gash on the leg.

Lambert didn't really understand why he was so aggressive, when the Wolf sparred with his brothers or Vesemir, they would settle for bruises and nicks. So he didn't hesitate when the Cat's head ended up next to his elbow and he gave him a well-deserved bloody nose.

They ended the match with a draw, Mal's dagger at Lambert's throat and his sword at the Cat's crotch. Mal disengaged himself with a smirk and offered him his forearm. Lambert hesitated but clasped it with a scowl, he didn't expect to be tugged into an embrace. He soon became aware of Aiden at his back who was growling at Mal. 

“Don't worry, kitten,” Mal drawled, “Not going to hurt what is yours. Now if you two ever decide to take on a third, think about me, okay ?”

The last sentence was whispered against Lambert's throat and he elbowed the Cat harshly in the ribs to be able to step back. Mal let him go, grinned at them and leered at the gash he left on Lambert's right leg before sauntering off.

“What the fucking hell is his problem ?”, Lambert then snarled at Aiden.

“It's just Mal,” Aiden answered with a shrug, “He's always been like this.”

“Fuck, my pants are ripped. Do you have some needle and thread ?”

“Yeah, but we're taking care of your leg first.”

“My leg's fine. It'll heal on his own. Might leave a scar though.”

“That was the point,” Aiden sighed, “Come on, I need to explain a few things to you.”

They changed their bloody clothes, bandaged the wounds and went to the nearby stream to wash the blood off. Aiden steered him towards a log when they came back to camp, and left him to go fetch them dinner.

He flopped down next to Lambert when he came back and handed him a bowl of stew. Lambert grumbled about it, because it was the fourth day of stew in a row and was a little bit of variety too much to ask ?

“So what's the deal with Mal ?”, Lambert asked around a mouthful of stew.

Aiden grimaced at his manners and Lambert abruptly closed his mouth.

“Mal is... Mal,” Aiden started and Lambert scoffed at the non explication, “He's obsessed with scars.”

“Yeah well, you could have warned me. When I spar, I don't try to disfigure my opponent !”

“He wasn't trying to disfigure you. He was trying to give you, us really, a new scar that he might be able to kiss and lick later on.”

Lambert choked on his stew under Aiden's amused stare.

“You mean that he was serious about his proposition ?”

“Yeah. Apparently he'd like to have both of us.”

“You don't seem surprised,” Lambert remarked suspiciously.

“Not the first time I would find myself in bed with Mal. I think that he fucked all the Caravan by now. And he boasted about having a Viper a few years ago.”

“Even Memnos ?”, Lambert asked with disbelief clear in his voice.

“Oh, yes. I wasn't there when it happened but Jayn said that _that_ evening had been entertaining as all hell.”

“You Cats have a weird sense of humor, you know ? What would you find entertaining in that ? It must have been a nightmare !”

“Oh, it was,” Aiden said with a grin, “Mal and Memnos spent the evening snipping at each other. And then they cursed and yelled at each other during sex because Memnos was insufferable. They broke the cart they were fucking on, made it fall on Pierre who, at the time, was under it trying to catch a glimpse of the two of them.”

Lambert gaped at Aiden. He didn't even fucking know what to say to that.

“They relocated to another cart, finished their fuck blaming each other for the previous disaster and apparently still managed to fall asleep together. The others were woken up by their fighting in the morning, and they emerged naked, Mal with a broken nose and Memnos with a broken arm. They haven't fucked together since.”

“You know, that story is _not_ a selling point. I don't want to spend a night being yelled at.”

“Mm, oh Mal isn't usually like that. He's mostly quiet, very focused on his task, and an utter bastard again the morning after. But it's all worth it, I promise.”

“If you say so. And what is going on with him ? He only fucks witchers because we're all scarred ?”

“Something like that,” Aiden said with a grin.

“Okay, what aren't you telling me ?”

“Mal actually likes to tie his partners up and to lick and kiss and worship their scars. It can be quite pleasurable and he's quite an accomplished lover.”

Lambert looked aghast at Aiden and didn't know what to say to that.

“Don't worry though, he won't push if you're not interested. I might take him up on his offer though, it's been a while since we last shared a bed.”

And Lambert spent the next few days thinking about what Aiden told him. He didn't think that he would be able to trust Mal enough to let the Cat tie him up and, he had to confess, it bothered him a little that Aiden might spend a night alone with _him_. He wasn't possessive in the least, but he didn't trust Mal, abrasive and mean Mal, to correctly take care of Aiden.

So he asked around camp about Mal and none of the Cats had any complaints about the man. Or rather they had a lot to say about him, just not about his fucking. And Lambert got curious, he had hope, one day in the future, to coax Aiden and Coën into his bed at the same time, so maybe he could learn a few things himself if he said yes and keep an eye on Aiden at the same time.

He finally told Aiden that he maybe was interested two days after the sparring match, if not to fuck, at least to watch. Aiden beamed at him, kissed him and went to find Mal.

And here he is one evening later. In a rented brothel's room with a full stomach watching his lover undress for another man. Lambert has taken a seat in a corner across the bed and is watching his lover carefully for any sign of distress. He seems completely at ease sitting on the edge of the bed.

When Mal has tied some ropes to the slatted headboard, has deposited some other items on the bedside table, he finally turns to Aiden. The first thing they do is to exchange a kiss. 

And then Mal goes down to his knees in front of Aiden and takes his right hand in his. He brings it to his mouth, kisses his palm, where Lambert knows there is a scar, and then licks it for a good minute. It still seems weird to Lambert.

When Mal's done, he takes a piece of cloth from the bedside table, silk if Lambert's not mistaken, and ties it around Aiden's wrist. He then takes his left hand and lavishes attention on Aiden's middle finger and then his wrist. He adds another piece of silk when he's done.

Aiden lets out a small contented sigh and moves up the bed. He lies in the middle of it, gives his two crossed wrists to Mal, who ties them together with rope over the silk, and then attaches said wrists to the ropes hanging from the headboard.

Lambert is tense while they proceed but Aiden still seems totally at ease. He even winks at him when Mal is busy with the ropes. Lambert returns the wink and examines his lover. Aiden looks good spread out on the bed with his arms extended over his head and his legs slightly spread. It's not what he pictured when Aiden had told him about being tied up.

Lambert had thought about shackles biting painfully into skin, about being tied up so tightly that he wouldn't be able to move at all, but Aiden's not in pain, there's enough give to the ropes for him to move from his back to his belly and vice versa, and if the worst came to pass, Lambert is sure that Aiden could break at least the headboard, if not the ropes themselves. 

While he was lost in his thoughts, Mal has moved on and is now playing with Aiden's ears. He apparently really likes the hole from his right earlobe, which Aiden uses to wear earrings from time to time, and licks and kisses and worries the skin between his teeth. He's not biting though, just sort of nibbling on the skin and sucking. 

And Aiden seems to like it. He lets out some soft sighs and Lambert can see his cock start to slowly swell. Mal then goes from the right to the left ear and then concentrates his efforts on the scar on Aiden's chin.

Lambert understood the ears but he can't begin to fathom what is so interesting about Aiden's chin. And Mal's ministrations don't seem to do anything for Aiden either. When he's done with the chin, Mal goes down again, avoids Aiden's unblemished throat and goes straight for the shoulders. 

Mal lavishes attention on a scar on the left shoulder, kisses it, licks it from one end to the other and does it again before nibbling on it. He starts again when he's done, and to Lambert's astonishment, lets out his first moan. 

“It's the first scar he gave me,” Aiden says with a grin for Lambert.

He spends a few minutes on that scar and Aiden starts to squirm. He's still completely relaxed and on his way to full hardness, and Lambert wonders if his scar really is just that sensitive. Mal leaves a love bite on Aiden's shoulder and moves to the right.

He replays the same tricks, just not for as long, before he continues on his way south. Mal stops to stare at Aiden's pecs for a few seconds, before his mouth busies itself with the scar just under Aiden's left nipple, and his hand fondles the witcher's right one. Lambert perks up when his lover starts to moan and he can't stop staring at Aiden's face.

“Fuck Mal,” Aiden breathes out between gasps, “You know how good my nipples feel so... Oh ! Why do you insist on lavishing your attention on the skin just below them ? Oh, fuck... You fucking tease !”

Mal snorts against Aiden's skin but doesn't stop. He inserts one of his legs between Aiden's and Lambert sees his lover start to slowly grind down on Mal's clothed thigh. It strangely turns him on.

“Lambert ?”, Aiden whispers once Mal moves his mouth to the other nipple, “Lambert ? Can you kiss me ?”

The Wolf frowns at the two Cats on the bed and ponders Aiden's request. He wants to kiss Aiden, he's sure of that, but he's still not so sure about getting close to Mal. He finally drops his swords - because he of course is still wearing them - when Aiden lets out a long moan. Lambert hears Mal chuckle against Aiden's nipple, and he sees the Cat kiss it one last time, before he moves down again.

Mal takes his leg back too and Aiden lets out a breathless whine in protest. Lambert quickly drops parts of his armor and his boots too, and by the time he joins the two Cats on the bed, Mal is nibbling on the long claw scars going up Aiden's left side and his hand disappears between Aiden's legs. Lambert kisses Aiden fiercely and swallows his sweet pleasured moans.

Lambert puts one of his hands between Aiden's bound ones and feels the Cat squeeze his fingers tightly. He's squirming and panting on the bed, but doesn't seem interested in breaking the ropes despite his desperate wriggling.

“Lambert !”, Aiden exclaims suddenly and continues to moan his name.

Lambert continues to kiss him, slow and deep, and feels touched that Aiden is moaning his name and not Mal's. It doesn't seem to bother the other Cat. Mal moves again and decides to fuck Aiden's bellybutton with his tongue. He starts to grind down on Aiden's leg too and Lambert is still startled to see that Mal apparently really is turned on by just worshipping Aiden's body.

Aiden suddenly lets out a deep long moan, arches off the bed and squeezes Lambert's hand tightly. He tears his mouth away from Lambert's.

“Fuck !”, he moans, “Fuck ! Mal ! Fingers, please ! I want your fingers in me !”

“Not yet,” Mal chuckles against the scar crossing Aiden's bellybutton, “You'll have to wait for the second round.”

Aiden lets out a small whimper and Lambert takes his mouth back. Aiden grinds down on Mal's fingers, which are probably massaging his balls or his perineum and aren't in him already like Lambert thought. They continue to kiss, still slow and lazy, and Aiden's moans are stifled between his lips. Lambert turns from his side to his belly and starts to hump the bed, he's getting into this, he realizes with astonishment.

It takes another few minutes for Mal to move down Aiden's body again and when Lambert finally thinks that he's going to take an interest in Aiden's cock, the Cat completely ignores it and decides to suck and lick on the inside of Aiden's right thigh, where Lambert knows there's an ugly bite scar. Aiden opens his eyes wide at that, arches off the bed and pushes his lower leg up against Mal's tented crotch.

Mal moans against Aiden's thigh and Lambert moans against Aiden's mouth. He feels Aiden smile against his lips and their kiss turns sloppy. They're still going slow, with their tongues slowly gliding together, and Aiden starts to moan louder. He's squeezing Lambert's hand on a rhythm and delightfully squirming on the sheets.

And finally, after Aiden arches off the bed again, Lambert looks back down and sees Mal move from Aiden's thigh to his cock. He swallows the head first, toys with it, before taking it deeper into his mouth and moaning loudly around it. Lambert focuses on Aiden again, and the Cat has his eyes wide open, he's staring straight at Lambert with a satisfied smile.

Lambert pushes his tongue into Aiden's mouth, swallows his breathless moans and keeps his eyes open to watch him come. He feels Aiden strain against the rope, his eyes close and he abandons himself to pleasure. Lambert kisses him through his orgasm and closes his eyes too when he hears Mal move off Aiden.

They keep kissing lazily for a minute before Lambert tears his mouth away. He looks over Aiden, who's still completely relaxed and then watches Mal, who looks smug between Aiden's legs. The Cat is still hard in his pants and Lambert wonders how he can still be so in control. Lambert's so close to coming in his breeches.

“So Wolf ?”, Mal drawls, “Joining us or do I have to settle for only Aiden tonight ?”

Lambert really doesn't know. Fuck, he has no idea. Aiden clearly doesn't have a problem with Mal touching him, trusts him enough to let him tie him up and Lambert knows that he just had a really good time. He looks at Aiden, still blissed out on the sheets.

“Your choice,” Aiden whispers at his silent question.

_Fuck it_ , Lambert thinks, Aiden hasn't lead him astray yet and he trusts him.

“Fine,” he grits out and starts to take the rest of his clothes off.

He plants a dagger on the headboard, just in case, and Mal smirks at him but doesn't protest.

“Anything I shouldn't do ?”, Mal asks him.

Lambert frowns and thinks about it before answering.

“I don't want your cock in my ass,” he finally says, because Aiden and Coën are one thing but he's not going to offer his ass on a platter to every passing man.

“Okay,” Mal agrees easily, “Fingers okay ? Tongue ? Or nothing at all ?”

“I... Maybe. I don't know ?”

“Okay,” Mal says again and Lambert relaxes a little bit when faced with this easy acceptance, “I'll ask again later then. Aiden, want me to untie your hands while I take care of your Wolf ?”

“No,” Aiden whispers back with a smile, “I'm good.”

“You can tie my hands like Aiden's,” Lambert says decidedly, “I just want to be next to him. I want to be able to kiss him.”

Aiden lets out a small pleased sound and Mal chuckles as he crawls towards him.

“No problem, Wolf.”

“Don't call me that !”

“Okay, Lambert,” Mal agrees again, “I might like to grind on you and come on you probably later too, problem with that ?”

“No,” Lambert says, “Come away.”

“With pleasure.”

And then Mal gets his shirt off, keeps his pants on and kneels on the bed next to Lambert. He starts with his hands, like he did for Aiden, kisses his scarred knuckles, licks between his fingers and Lambert starts to relax. He lets him tie two pieces of silk over his wrists and tie them together with rope.

“Lie down next to Aiden for me, Lambert ?”

Lambert nods and lies down, his right side touching Aiden's left. Mal straddles his torso, grinds his crotch on Lambert's stomach and ties his hands up over his head to a new rope hanging from the headboard. Lambert tugs on his wrists when he's done and hears the headboard creak, it reassures him.

“Can I kiss you ?”, Mal asks.

“Yes,” Lambert whispers.

Mal takes his mouth, slightly bites his lips and lets their tongues meet slowly. He withdraws soon enough and kisses the scars running down the right side of his face. Lambert stays still and lets him do as he pleases. He closes his eyes, tries to relax on the bed and feels Aiden shift beside him. He lets out a gasp when Mal's lips close around his earlobe.

Mal chuckles, grinds down on his stomach again and sucks at his ear. Lambert squirms a little and squeezes his hands together. Mal soon abandons his ear, squirms down Lambert's body and attaches his mouth to an ugly scar on Lambert's collarbone. It sends small jolts of pleasure down his body and his cock perks up again.

Mal spends several minutes exploring Lambert's upper torso before moving to his nipples. He seems to particularly like the scar bisecting Lambert's left nipple and eagerly presses his tongue and his teeth to it. He doesn't bite, just worries the skin between his teeth, rolls the nipple between his lips and sucks it steadily. Lambert starts to moan and rubs his cock against the firm thigh that gets pushed between his spread legs.

He turns his head towards Aiden, who's looking at him with fond adoration, and captures his mouth. Aiden keeps the kiss slow and leisurely, and fucks his tongue into Lambert's mouth. He's the one swallowing Lambert's moans now. Mal's hand starts to play with his other nipple and he only abandons them when Lambert starts to arch off the bed.

The long scar marring Lambert's stomach catches Mal's attention and he lets out a small whimper between Aiden's lips when Mal starts to worry the skin between his teeth. The leg he is grinding on disappears and two fingers are pressed to his perineum. Lambert lets out a loud moan.

Mal starts to rub himself against Lambert's leg and Aiden is beginning to squirm again at his side. Lambert feels good. He's finally relaxed, only has to focus on the pleasure the two Cats are giving him and feels his orgasm building slowly. Mal leaves a faint love bite over Lambert's scar and moans against Lambert's stomach.

When he's done, Mal moves down again and burrows his face in Lambert's crotch. He breathes him in, kisses Lambert's cock and turns his mouth towards the soft skin between his cock and his thigh. Lambert knows that he has a tiny scar there, from a werewolf who almost gelded him, and he moans obscenely into Aiden's mouth.

Mal and Aiden echo him. The kiss he's sharing with Aiden turns sloppy again and Lambert soon leaves the actual moving of lips up to Aiden while he settles for panting loudly against the Cat's mouth. He closes his eyes when he sees Aiden's amused stare, grinds down hard onto Mal's fingers and arches his back off the bed. He hears the headboard creak again and he forces himself to relax.

“Good Lambert,” Mal whispers against his skin and licks the skin at the crease of his thigh.

Lambert lets out another loud moan when Mal's mouth finally takes an interest in his cock. The Cat takes him into his mouth, sucks three times and swallows around Lambert's cock while his fingers massage his perineum relentlessly. He squirms, shivers and comes with a muffled shout while Aiden plunders his mouth. Mal doesn't let him go and Lambert wriggles and moans all the way through his orgasm.

When he finally opens his eyes, Aiden is still kissing him and is looking at him with big soft eyes. Lambert throws himself into the kiss and moans Aiden's name when the Cat finally lets his mouth go free. He feels Mal straighten and watches him take his pants off. He's hard and leaking as he strokes himself over them.

“Aiden, can you... On your stomach ?”, Mal asks breathlessly.

Aiden winks at Lambert and turns onto his stomach. Mal straddles his hips and Lambert watches him jerk off over Aiden. Mal moans and whimpers, fists his cock with one hand while the other massages his balls and he comes all over Aiden's back with a strangled shout. He falls down over their legs and presses kisses into their skin.

Mal slowly catches his breath again, Lambert's own panting calms down and he hears Aiden's heartbeat accelerate slowly. And from the way he is lazily humping the matress and sighing softly, he's hard again and just waiting for Mal to carry on.

It takes Mal a few more minutes to recover. He then gets back up, fetches a vial of oil from the bedside table and dumps it on the bed between Aiden and Lambert. Mal then spreads Aiden's legs and kneels between them. He splays his hands on Aiden's hips and holds him still against the matress. Aiden whimpers and Lambert forces himself to keep his eyes open and fights his urge to doze contentedly.

He looks back at Mal again and sees him start to spread his semen across the scars marring Aiden's back. It takes him a few minutes to spread his spend from Aiden's shoulder blades to the small of his back. Mal then massages Aiden's back in long steady strokes and Lambert sees his lover slowly melt into the matress. He stops rubbing himself across the matress but the scent of his arousal is still heavy in the air.

Lambert thinks that Mal keeps the massage up for half an hour and then starts to apply his mouth to Aiden's back. He kisses all of Aiden's scars, from his shoulders to his ass, and then starts over by licking them. On the third pass, he nibbles gently on them, adds a few love bites, before swirling his tongue over them in what Lambert thinks is a soothing pattern, and Aiden starts to squirm again. Mal unties Aiden's hands from the rope hanging from the headboard, keeps his wrists bound together and asks him to turn to his back again.

Aiden complies wordlessly and Lambert sees that his cock is rock hard, he's not complaining about the wait though. Aiden's head ends up next to Lambert's and they start to kiss again. Lambert abandons his task to look at Mal again when Aiden lets out a gasp. Mal is kneeling over Aiden's torso and he has his left arm in his hands.

Lambert sees him trail kisses on it and it downs on him that he's worshipping the new scar he gave Aiden three days ago. Lambert wonders if he'll do the same to the scar on his own leg later. Aiden lets him look as Mal starts to leave love bites over the scar, before demanding his attention back. They start to kiss again.

They keep their kisses slow, unhurried, so as not to become desperate before Mal is done and ready to see to their needs. Lambert still slowly starts to get hard again. And after an indefinite amount of time – seconds, minutes or hours, Lambert doesn't know – Mal abandons Aiden's arm. Lambert looks at it again, because he's curious, and spots new love bites spanning the whole scar. Mal is hard again too and is watching them with attention.

“Lambert, mind getting on your stomach so that Aiden can sprawl himself over your back ?”

“What ? It's not my turn yet ?”

Aiden and Mal chuckle and Lambert turns to his stomach blushing.

He soon feels Aiden's weight settle comfortably over his back. The Cat presses his bounds hands to his and they tangle their fingers together. Aiden presses his face into Lambert's neck and he can feel the Cat's hard cock pressing into the small of his back. Lambert moans into the pillow and Aiden echoes him against his neck. He feels tiny kisses being pressed against one side of his throat and relaxes into the sheets.

He then hears the vial of oil being opened and Aiden takes a deep breath before letting out a long moan. And then nothing. He can see nothing, only hears some minor sounds he can't quite identify and just feels Aiden's slow kisses against his neck and the tightening of his fingers against his.

It takes a few minutes for Aiden to start to rub his cock on Lambert's body and for Mal to rub his own hard cock on Lambert's right leg. Aiden's kisses turn sloppy, become licks and after a moment the Cat only ends up panting heavily against him. Lambert pushes his hips off the bed as a test and is rewarded with Mal's sharp intake of breath and Aiden's loud moan.

“Lambert, Lambert,” Aiden says between pants, “Lambert, you're so good. Do that again.”

So Lambert listens to Aiden and pushes his hips up again. Another loud moan echoes in the room. He continues to do so.

“Fuck, you're so good to me,” Aiden continues, “Do you know what you are doing to me ? Fuck, you're pushing me onto Mal's fingers, fucking me onto Mal's fingers. He has two in my ass. He's not moving, Lambert, not moving at all, and you're just pushing me onto them, like a good considerate lover. Don't stop, please don't stop.”

Lambert continues to apparently fuck Aiden onto Mal's fingers, he's going to take the Cat to his word as he can't see what is happening behind him. He sets up a slow steady rhythm and his own cock starts to leak on the bedsheets. _Right_ , Lambert thinks, _Why did he think that getting aroused too fast was bad again ?_

Mal's moans soon join theirs in the room and he feels him insert his hand between his and Aiden's bodies. Mal's hand ends up on Aiden's cock and he moves it in time with Lambert's thrusts upwards. Aiden's pants become louder, moans and whimpers completing them and Lambert feels him come over his back. Mal keeps stroking him until Aiden starts to squirm urgently and Lambert flops back down on the bed. He's uncomfortably hard against the bedsheets and really hopes that his turn to come will arrive soon.

Aiden's weight presses him down on the matress and the Cat nuzzles Lambert's neck contentedly. Mal lets him enjoy the afterglow for a minute and gently pushes Aiden aside when Lambert starts to wriggle against the bed.

“Oh !”, Mal exclaims quietly when he sees Lambert's back and comes all over it too in a matter of seconds.

_That_ puts a stop to his squirming, because he knows what his back looks like. Or rather he doesn't because he never was interested in finding a mirror to assess the damage, but he's seen the sad looks Eskel, Geralt, Aiden and Coën have given him when they first saw it, and the regretful and slightly guilty ones Vesemir throws him every time he spots his back.

He knows that his back is a mess. He has a few scars from monsters here and there, but the bulk of it comes from the whip. The whip his fucking trainers applied as discipline when he was training at Kaer Morhen. He has a few other marks from more traditional beatings and the burn mark a hot poker left on his right shoulderblade. He's not regretting the actions that lead to the punishments though, and never will.

It never occurred to him that someone could find the sight of his back pleasing though. But of course the witcher completely obsessed with scars would like his back, and Lambert doesn't know how to feel about the fact that his mess just got Mal coming happily in a few _seconds_. Fuck, he just hopes that he won't ask about them. He's out of here if he asks.

Lambert looks at Aiden, who's tense next to him now, and he feels bad for ruining the Cat's afterglow. But Mal doesn't ask. He just presses one of his fingers into the semen adorning his back and traces one of his scars reverently with said finger. Mal then clears his throat because he had to feel Lambert tense up.

“I'm fine. Just continue,” Lambert grunts at Mal before the Cat completely ruins the mood.

Mal hums behind him and traces the shape of a new scar. Lambert forces himself to relax and Aiden gives him a small proud smile.

“Aiden ?”, Mal then whispers, “Do you need something right now ? Water ? Food ? Being untied ? Because I'm afraid that I'm going to be busy for a while.”

“I'm fine, Mal,” Aiden murmurs back, “Take care of Lambert, will you ?”

“Oh yes,” he says, “I will.”

And then his fingers come back to play with the semen on his lower back and go back up to trace the scars on his shoulderblades. He ghosts his fingertips onto every single fucking scar, spends an unholy amount of time tracing his burn mark and Lambert remembers why he thought that getting aroused too quickly was a bad idea. He saw the time Mal spent on Aiden's back and Lambert has no doubt that he'll spend twice as much on Lambert's.

He relaxes on the bed and lets the Cat work. He melts against the matress too under the massage Mal gives him and is forced to admit that Mal clearly knows what he is doing here. He starts with the kisses after the massage and Mal is forced to keep him still because he starts to wriggle again.

Lambert bears his ministrations without a sound and turns his head expectantly towards Aiden when he lets out his first moan. Aiden smiles smugly at him and obliges him. Their kisses aren't slow, like the others they shared tonight, but hurried, dirty and desperate and they do nothing to calm Lambert down. He soon starts to slowly rub himself against the matress and feels Mal chuckle against his back.

He growls, tries to arch off the bed but Mal just presses him down again and only just starts his second pass. His licks are teasing, they leave goosebumps in their wake and Lambert just wants more. He moans and whimpers against Aiden's lips, twists his bound wrists and lets out a startled gasp when Mal's hand finds his leaking cock.

“Mm, you're so good, Lambert. I'm not finished with you yet, though. I'll go down, take care of your leg now, mind turning onto your back for me ?”, he asks against the skin of his lower back and takes his hand back.

And Lambert obeys, ends up in the wet spot he left on the bed and it doesn't even bother him.

“Just calm down while I take care of this beautiful leg and think about getting some fingers in your ass for me ?”

Lambert nods dumbly, closes his eyes and makes an effort to slow down the kiss he's sharing with Aiden. He desperatly wants to come, but Mal doesn't exactly look like he's in a hurry to pay some interest to his cock. Aiden helps him gentle the kiss too and they entangle the fingers of their bounds hands again.

Mal lies down next to Lambert's right leg, ghosts his fingertips against the faint scar he gifted him three days ago and then kisses it. Lambert's glad to note that this doesn't do anything to him. It doesn't disgust him but doesn't arouse him further either, and he tries to get his breathing and heartbeat under control again.

Mal spends long minutes kissing the scar, from its beginning to its end and from its end to its beginning. After the third kissing passes, he starts with the licks and then goes on to the nibbling. Lambert is happy to note that he's slightly more calm, even if still painfully aroused, when Mal starts with the love bites. He and Aiden are kissing lazily again and Lambert lets out small surprised gasps for each new love bites he gets. He counts twently hickeys, some overlapping each other, before Mal decides to stop.

“On your stomach again ?”

Lambert grumbles because _really_ , but he complies anyway. He turns his head back towards Aiden, who's on his side next to him, when he's settled and captures his lips again. Mal continues to worship the scars on his back and Lambert had forgotten that the Cat liked to do three passes and that they stopped before he could complete the last one.

So he lets out a new startled gasp when he feels Mal start to nibble on his scars and Aiden lets out a chuckle against his lips. And as it turns out, Mal's tongue really soothes the slight tingle his teeth leave behind him. Lambert bites Aiden's lips slightly and their kiss soon turns hungry again. They're fucking each other's mouths, entangling their tongues desperatly and Lambert is astonished to feel Aiden get hard against his side _again_.

Lambert inserts one of his legs between Aiden's and his gesture gets a moan out of the Cat. By the time Mal finishes his third pass on his back, Lambert is desperatly rutting against the matress again, Aiden is panting against his mouth and he just wants to come.

“Fingers, Lambert ? Yes or no ?”, Mal asks.

“Yes,” Lambert whispers against Aiden's lips, “Fingers. No cock though,” he repeats.

“No cock,” Mal agrees.

Lambert hears the vial of oil being opened again and he gets up on his knees. Mal chuckles again, presses a finger inside him and attaches his mouth to a scar on Lambert's ass. Aiden moves from beside him to under him and they continue to kiss hurriedly.

Mal adds a second finger after a few minutes and then a third, and Lambert rocks back against the fingers in his ass. He lets out a loud moan when Mal grazes his prostate and lets the Cat fuck his ass steadily. Aiden's bound hands travel around his torso, his fingers tweak his nipples and he whimpers against his sweet lips.

He soon abandons the kissing, just presses his open mouth against Aiden's, whimpers, moans, fucks back against the fingers in his ass and lets out a muffled shout when Mal's other hand _finally_ wraps itself around his leaking cock. It only takes a brush of Mal's clever fingers over the head of his cock for Lambert to come.

He moans and pants against Aiden's lips, enjoys the way Mal fucks him through his orgasm and comes all over Aiden's stomach. Mal lets him go when he's done and gently guides him back down to flop over Aiden. Lambert presses an open mouthed kiss against the Cat's chest and barely feels his hands being untied from the headboard.

“Want me to untie your wrists too ?”, Mal whispers and Lambert shakes his head.

He's fine, utterly relaxed and just wants to enjoy the afterglow, his bound wrists can wait. He feels Mal flop down on his other side and closes his eyes contentedly. He's woken up from his doze sometimes later by Aiden who's squirming under him. He's kissing Mal above Lambert's head and he's still hard. Lambert groans and rolls over Aiden to let him get a better access to Mal.

“Sleeping beauty's awake,” Mal teases, “Aiden and me are going for a third round. You want to join or are you done ?”

Lambert thinks about it, examines his body and decides that he's in no shape for a third round right now, maybe in the morning when he'll feel less tired.

“No, I'm good,” he says and extends his still bound wrists towards Mal.

Mal nods, unties the rope binding him, massages his wrists and retrieves the silk too. Lambert then lies back down on Aiden's right side.

“Lambert, Mal's going to fuck me,” Aiden says with a grin, “Do you mind if I kiss you while we're at it or are you done done ?”

“Kissing's fine, grinding too if you need. I just don't think that I can get hard again before morning.”

Aiden smiles at him and moves so that Lambert can lie down in the middle of the bed. Aiden then kneels over him, his still hard cock leaking over Lambert's stomach and his still bound hands resting over the top of his head. Lambert hears Mal fiddle with the vial of oil and Aiden soon is gasping over him.

They start to kiss again after that, alternating between slow and urgent, and it's Aiden's turn to pant breathlessly against his lips. Lambert knows exactly when Mal enters Aiden, because the Cat lets out a long moan and starts to rock back above him. He hears Mal moaning too, his pleasured sounds muffled, probably against Aiden's skin.

Aiden's pants soon turn frantic and Lambert feels his cock starts to leak precum steadily over him. He gets his leg up and offers it to Aiden to rub against. The Cat mumbles a small _thanks_ against his lips and his cock is soon rubbing against Lambert's leg. Mal's own thigh sometimes brush against his leg but he's not sure the Cat even notices it.

Lambert hears Mal come first with a muffled shout and he feels him get his cock out of Aiden. Semen starts to drip out of Aiden's hole and ends up on Lambert's leg against which Aiden is still rubbing himself frantically.

“Please ! Please !”, Aiden asks against his lips, “Lambert !”

Lambert kisses Aiden deeply and feels Mal reposition his leg so that Aiden ends up over his thigh. Mal then holds Aiden still against Lambert's thigh with one hand before he enters him with the fingers from his other hand.

Aiden squirms and wriggles over him with desperate moans escaping him, and Lambert wraps one of his hands around his cock, while he inserts his other hand under Aiden's body. His fingers graze Mal's thumb over Aiden's perineum and they fuck Aiden together until he comes with a shout.

They stroke him through his orgasm and Lambert gently lowers his thigh when he's done. Aiden flops over Lambert's body and Mal reaches for his bound hands. He unties him too, Lambert tightens his hold over a shivering moaning Aiden and falls asleep contented and relaxed.

He is rudely woken up in the morning when Mal, the bastard, kicks the bed hard, opens the shutters and the windows and lets some fresh crisp air into the room. Lambert groans, hides his face into Aiden's neck and just refuses to get up. Aiden is still sprawled over him and clearly as displeased as him with Mal.

“Get up, you lazy fuckers,” Mal says loudly, “We need to vacate the room in ten minutes.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Aiden whines, “and let me enjoy my morning.”

“No, get up. The sun is already up and the Caravan's probably already gone. We'll need to hurry to catch up.”

Mal kicks the bed again and tears the sheets covering their naked bodies away.

“Uh, nice morning wood, Lambert. Too bad we don't have time to take care of it.”

“Oh, sweet Melitele save me !”, Aiden exclaims against Lambert's skin, “I'm staying here. You can go back to the Caravan alone, you utter _asshole_.”

“Look, take my purse, go downstairs, pay the damn madam to let us stay one more day and just fuck off,” Lambert intervenes, “We're clearly not ready to depart yet and I'm not travelling with a bunch of witchers smelling like a fucking orgy.”

Mal smirks at him and Lambert is sure that the prick only woke them up this late so that they wouldn't have time to change and bathe. That would make for an awkward arrival with the Caravan. Mal shrugs, rummages through Lambert's bags, shows him the purse he's taking and leaves the room with one last smirk thrown their way. Lambert lets his head fall back against the pillows.

“Fuck. Is he always like that the morning after ?”, Lambert wonders.

“Pretty much,” Aiden says, “The fact that he's a wonderful lover doesn't erase the fact that he is a complete _bastard_. Now, about this lovely morning wood !”

They are interrupted two minutes later by the madam, who throws the door open, strides into the room and starts to lecture them about punctuality. The fact that Aiden's mouth is wrapped around Lambert's cock doesn't seem to bother her at all. They are summarily thrown out of the establishment, because it turns out that Mal left with his purse and didn't bother to pay the madam for the room for the day.

Lambert fumes as he's forced to dress in the streets, because of course their clothes were thrown out of the window when they weren't quick enough to get out of the bed, and he vows to make Mal pay for the rude awakening and the theft. But first they need to find a bath or a river, he's not picky, some food and a secluded corner so that they can finish taking care of their interrupted business. With the plan made up, Lambert tugs Aiden towards the edge of the village and they leave with a spring in their step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Let me know if you found something weird or bad written! Every constructive criticism is welcome!


	6. 2 : 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the first part of the winter is here!

To Jaskier's astonishment, the witchers seem to settle almost peacefully in Kaer Morhen. Vesemir, Eskel, Geralt and him are still somewhat tense, but Lambert or his husbands or Cirilla always seem to be in the right place at the right time to run interference if it is needed.

Cirilla is indeed delighted to have all the witchers in Kaer Morhen and spends the first few days flitting from one to another, before she effortlessly ends up with a new training schedule. Jaskier knows it by heart because Geralt complained about it to him and he had to spend an evening comforting him and assuring him that his child still loved him.

So Cirilla starts her mornings with one of the available Cats to practice her agility and speed, and by the time Jaskier wakes up and heads for the kitchen, she's usually already jumping out of its window gleefully. He's considering asking her for tips when he sees the ease with which she runs, jumps and rolls, it could always come in handy while running away from angry husbands.

Then she ends up with the Vipers in the late mornings for some hand-to-hand combat training and Jaskier doesn't understand why anyone would think that _Serrit_ or _Letho_ would make good teachers. But Cirilla doesn't complain and Geralt doesn't intervene on the first week he spends stalking his daughter through the keep, so he has to concede that they maybe really are good at it.

In the afternoons, Cirilla goes to Geralt, Eskel or Lambert for sword lessons and Jaskier is just so relieved that she didn't even think about asking anybody else. He wouldn't have wanted to see his friend's reaction to that slight. And when she's done, she seeks out the Bears or Coën to practice her throwing skills. Jaskier doesn't know how she manages to be so energetic.

When they're not training Cirilla, the other witchers are really oddly useful. Jaskier spots the Cats gleefully cleaning the chimneys and repairing the roof of the keep, the Vipers organize at leat four hunting trips a week, not all of them successful, with standing invitations for the others to join them, the Bears are on wood cutting duty, the Wolves do the masonry and Coën is in charge of the whole stables. Jaskier saw him wince when Vesemir had informed him of it but he hadn't complained.

And the witchers work, cook – because Vesemir had immediately refused to spend his winter feeding everyone by himself -, do the laundry, mend their belongings, drink, play cards or dice, brawl and spar. In truth they all seem weirdly relaxed.

And of course there still is some trouble when Mal refuses to use sparring swords and insists to fight with his own blades, when one day the hunting party comes back without Lambert and it turns out that they abandonned him on purpose because he annoyed the Vipers or when the Bears, lending a hand with the masonry, just insist on adding ugly as fuck gargoyles to the keep.

And then there are the brawls. Jaskier usually leaves when he sees a brawl coming and tries to take Cirilla with him, but to his chagrin it doesn't always work and he has to watch her run around the fighters and curse like Lambert in the heat of the moment, he often flees after that. He then ends up in the library where Seyn usually can be found – sometimes fucking, sometimes not, and Jaskier learns to knock and to avoid Vesemir if it turns out that his precious room has been defiled.

He likes the man the Cats brought with them. He's nice, doesn't take any shit and has an appreciative ear for music. And Jaskier has toacknowledge that he likes not to be the only human stuck in a castle full of witchers and a tireless kid.

They spend some nice days tucked away in the library, dusting or reading or Jaskier playing the lute for his humming audience, while sometimes a stray Cat will bring them a snack or two. Jaskier still doesn't understand how such a nice and polite man could have ended up with so much sway over the idiotic deadly Cats, it clearly baffles him but he tries not to let it show too much.

The only downside Jaskier can really complain against is the sex. Not that he is having sex, because there is a distinct lack of women in the keep, but almost everybody else is. He walked in on Seyn with some Cats several times already, saw Auckes hook up with Heyn after a brawl, witnessed Del make ouvertures towards Eskel, is sure that Aiden, Coën and Lambert are having sex regularly, heard about several other pairings and even has some bets running on who's going to fuck whom during the current week – because he too can be a gossip.

And the witchers' shamelessness is driving him mad. He's walked in on several couples in different states of undress, he had to turn down two invitations himself, he had to watch as Vesemir begrudgingly dedicated a pool to sex in the hot springs because he quickly understood that he wouldn't be able to control the witchers' urges and he's pretty sure that Wyff likes to be watched because he insists on having sex in the corridors.

Jaskier can only be astonished at their habits. He hadn't thought possible to see so many men interested in the same sex gathered in the same place at the same time. Not that he has a problem with it, but he's used to people like them being more discreet about their wants.

He's pretty sure that the witchers aren't as brazen on the Path and that they're only allowing themselves some freedom because they feel somewhat safe. It still doesn't mean that Jaskier likes to walk in on coupling witchers.

And when the first snow arrives and the three idiots' wedding still hasn't been celebrated, Jaskier knows that he'll be forced to put up with the witchers for the whole winter. He still had the small hope that some of them would disappear after the wedding, but seeing as Coën wants a snowy ceremony, Jaskier can kiss his hope goodbye. He doesn't really know how to feel about that.

And finally after it has been snowing for a week, Coën comes to find him and tells him that they'd like to perform their ceremony two days later. Jaskier nods and lets him actually organize the feast.

The Vipers and the Bears are sent out to bring in some game the day before, the Cats end up in the kitchen on the actual wedding day, Geralt and Eskel are ordered to clean the courtyard, the grooms are allowed a lazy day and Vesemir takes care of the dining hall's preparation. Them three humans are politely asked to stay out of everyone's way.

It works on Jaskier, who's delighted to spend a day lazing around, but Cirilla ends up tagging along with Geralt and Seyn with the Cats. Jaskier is finally solicited to braid Cirilla's hair a few hours before the ceremony, because Geralt, while learning, is still horrible at it, and he promises her to sing some dancing songs during the feast.

In the evening they eventually all end up on the keep's battlements overlooking the breathtaking mountains with the wind howling in their ears and some snowflakes twirling around them in the moonlight, it's oddly romantic.

He gives Cirilla the rings that'll be used during the ceremony, wooden ones delicately engraved, probably by Coën himself, and takes his stand in front of Aiden, Coën and Lambert, while the other witchers all stand behind him.

“Dear friends and family,” Jaskier yells over the wind, “We're all gathered here on this joyous day to witness the joining of Aiden, Coën and Lambert. I ask you now to declare your intention to renew your wedding's vows. Aiden will you take Coën and Lambert to be your husbands ? Will you love them, cherish them and pledge your blades to their causes ?”

He sees Aiden smile at his husbands, nod and say something that he doesn't catch over the howling wind, he hopes that the Cat just agreed or it'll end up as an awkward ceremony. He repeats the questions for Coën and Lambert and only manages to hear the Griffin's agreement.

“You may now exchange your rings and give your vows to one another.”

He motions Cirilla to come forward and she steps up next to the tree witchers. She hands Coën the first ring and the Griffin puts it on Lambert's hand. He starts to speak and Jaskier can just stare helplessly at his moving lips while the wind steals the words away.

“I take you, Lambert, to be my wedded husband,” Geralt's voice says right next to his ear and Jaskier startles.

“Oh, thank you, my dear !”

“I promise to love you, to cherish you, to keep you warm during the long winter's months and to try my very best to keep you out of the hands of the various villages' and cities' guards you'll continue to piss off in your stupid quest to win a brawl in every single settlement of the continent.”

Geralt snorts next to him and Jaskier pats his arm. Coën and Lambert exchange a smile before the Griffin takes the second ring and puts it on Aiden's finger.

“I take you, Aiden, to be my wedded husband. I promise to love you, to take care of you, to keep you warm during the long winter's months and to try my very best to give you the most wonderful apple pies the continent has to offer.”

They smile at each other too, and the Cat and the Wolf both take hold of the last ring to put it on Coën's finger.

“Coën, we take you to be our wedded husband,” they say together, “We promise to love you, to treasure you, to share our warmth with you during the long winter's months, to not take too much advantage of your kindness and to never ever again eat your potted plant.”

Jaskier lets out an amused huff at that. Geralt then clears his throat and Jaskier shouts again.

“By the powers conferred on me by... you, I guess, I declare you wedded. You may now kiss !”

And kiss they do, and Jaskier turns around quickly because he knows exactly what their three-way kisses look like.

“Can we head inside now ?”, Letho shouts over the wind, “My balls are freezing !”

They all nod and troop back inside quickly to escape the biting wind. They're all glad to enter the warm dining hall and Wyff and Zorn disappear for a few seconds to bring the first course over. The meal promises to be a true feast and Jaskier is sure that he isn't the only one looking forward to it.

They end up gorging themselves on carefully roasted venison, on pheasant cooked in a casserole with mushrooms and everything accompanied by mashed potatoes, spiced cauliflowers and some leek, cheese and bacon tart. The Cats really outdid themselves and they are rightfully congratulated.

Before dessert, Jaskier sings a few songs and is delighted to watch Cirilla carefully coax the witchers into sharing a dance with her. Geralt is first and then the three grooms, from whom Aiden clearly is the most graceful, and then her favorites, Auckes, Eskel, Serrit and Del.

He stops when Zorn announces that they're going to serve dessert and takes his seat back at the table, he just hopes that they didn't prepare apple pies exclusively. Fortunately, someone anticipated the probable disaster and Aiden gets his own personal apple pie while the rest of them enjoy some pear pies.

After dessert, Cirilla asks for more songs so that she can drag the people she hasn't already danced with on the dancefloor and Jaskier gladly follows her command. She shares her last dance with him, while the Cats improvise a beat on the table and Seyn hums along. Jaskier bows before her at the end of it and Cirilla beams at him. She's slightly less happy when Geralt decreeds that it's time for her to go to bed.

Cirilla spends another ten minutes running around the table, hugging the witchers goodnight and then refuses to go to Geralt, who has to chase her around. They all laugh at him and wave at Cirilla when, after being caught, she ends up thrown over her father's shoulder like a delicate sack of potatoes. They hear her shriek in the corridor and Jaskier is pretty sure that Geralt is going to tickle her until they reach her bedroom.

After the child disappears, the strong alcohol comes out. White Gull and Lambert's homemade vodka and some liquor brought by the Bears. They exchange some toast, down glasses at an impressive rate and Jaskier is pressured to sing some bawdy songs. He gets up on the table, twirls around forgotten plates, downs the glasses handed to him and sings to his heart content.

His vision soon starts to get fuzzy and he ends up sprawled on Eskel's lap while he strums his lute and sings along, at least he hopes that it can still be considered singing at this point. The witchers are clapping along, others are arm-wrestling and he spots Vesemir stealing the last slices of pear pies for himself. He doesn't see Geralt come back, but when he turns his head around, the White Wolf is sitting next to him and Eskel again.

And then Mal has to ruin everything.

“Hey, bard !”, the Cat shouts from his end of the table, “Sing us the song you wrote about our three idiots !”

That sobers Jaskier up a bit, because nobody is supposed to know about this song except Geralt. It is a brothel's song and therefore not suitable at all for a wedding. He shushes the Cat, loud enough that everybody hears it, and he makes some uncoordinated movements supposed to convey that he'd like the witcher to shut up. Going by Eskel's snort, he's not sure he's successful.

“I don't know what you mean,” Jaskier drawls, “I never, I'm never, I've never written such a song !”

“Come on, bard !”, Vanni cajoles, “It'll make a wonderful wedding gift !”

“No,” Jaskier whines.

“Suit yourself,” Del says, “We memorized it. Just in case.”

And the Cats start to sing because they're _assholes_. They have the lyrics down, Jaskier has to admit, but their tempo is atrocious. It probably doesn't help that they're drunk. Eskel starts to laugh under him and the other witchers guffaw alongside him and Jaskier blushes.

“What the fuck !”, Lambert exclaims at the head of the table, “What the fucking fuck !”

Jaskier sighs and starts to sing too, now that the cat is out of the bag, he might as well own his composition.

“I'm not a woman !”, Lambert yells after the first stanza, “Aiden's not a woman either !”

“I tried to make him see reason,” Geralt, the _arse_ , says completely straight-faced.

Jaskier hits him, because the witcher had spent his time encouraging him when he had written it. It had probably been one of the only times his friend had taken an interest in his composing.

And Jaskier had tried to make his bawdy song about three men, but he hadn't gotten a warm reception, apparently same-sex love wasn't exactly popular on the continent. So he maybe had to resort to make use of his artistic license and if Lambert became Sweet Lamb and Aiden, Aidelle, well, he had never planned for them to find out.

As his song progresses, Jaskier sees Lambert get more and more agitated while Coën and Aiden try to distract him. When he finishes his song, he bows to his merry audience, winks at the three grooms and then the Cats decide to sing the chorus again, the other witchers all join them and Jaskier sees the exact moment Lambert snaps.

They're all bellowing about Sweet Lamb wriggling her ass enticingly and Aidelle spreading her long long legs while Coën can't decide which one he wants to plough first, when Lambert jumps over the table and heads straight for Jaskier.

He squeaks, scrambles off Eskel's lap and runs. He hears someone tackle Lambert behind him and doesn't look back. He stops when he reaches the door, bows back towards the room, which is quickly descending into chaos, and leaves for his own bedroom. He has had enough excitation for one night.

* * *

Cirilla is really glad Coën took it upon himself to invite everyone to the keep for the winter. She's just missing Yennefer, but she can understand why the sorceress would have wanted to avoid the chaos.

She quickly ends up with a new training schedule, that she mostly organized herself, and pretends that she doesn't spot Geralt following her around during the first week. She understands that he only wants to make sure that she's safe, but she knows the witchers better than him and is sure that they wouldn't hurt her.

Geralt soon calms down though, so he must have seen what she saw in the witchers too. They can be rough around the edges but they're not gratuitously mean, and she tries to integrate her family to the others. She manages to have Auckes give her some piggy-back rides and Cirilla forces him to sit next to her and Geralt sometimes at dinner, and then draw them both into conversation with her. Jaskier soon spots what she's trying to do, ruffles her hair and encourages her. She beams at him.

Del is the one who gives her new stealing and betting ideas. He first bets her that she wouldn't be able to catch one of the hens and release it into the dining hall at supper. It takes her three days to prove him wrong, and she watches Lil' Bleater chase after the hen before Vesemir orders Eskel and Lambert to catch the two offending animals.

Ciri then heads for Del, plops down on the bench next to him and laughs. Lambert ends up on his face several times, Lil' Bleater hides behind a massive solid wood buffet and Eskel gets stuck behind it when he tries to go after her, and the goat naturally comes out of the other side.

Del snickers with her and they exchange a high-five while Geralt gets up to help Lambert and Serrit heads for Eskel, they all hear the Wolf's embarrassed squeak when he spots the Viper coming to his rescue.

They bet a dagger on this trick and Del gives it to her without a fuss. She stays calm for the next few days because Vesemir is watching her attentively, and accepts Serrit's next bet with delight. She has until the end of the winter to steal one purse from each person in the keep and collects her first three trophies on the first day.

Seyn and Jaskier are the easiest ones to steal from, and she then turns her hands towards Coën. It takes a little bit of work on her part but she manages to obtain one of the Griffin's purses by the time the sun comes down. Auckes and Letho join the betting pool the same evening, the first with her, the second against, and the other inhabitants of the keep place their bets in the next few days. Ciri's glad to note that Geralt bet on her.

She joins some of the other betting pools too, and learns to win and to lose. She's disappointed when Heyn doesn't manage to run the walls three times before being tackled by Pierre. She grumbles when Prethr, who's holding most of the wagers, informs her that she can either hand in twenty coins or spend her evening mending clothes. She sighs and chooses the mending, not that she knows how to do it, but Ciri figures that that is a nice way of spending a nice lazy evening instead.

Unfortunately in the evening she ends up sharing a comfortable rug next to the dining hall's fire with Seyn and Letho for the mending session, and the two men clearly don't plan to let her get away with her scheme. She whines and pleads and even lets out a few big tears, but to no avail.

“Take your fucking needle and thread,” Letho growls at her after a while, “If I can darn the damn Bears' socks, so you can !”

So Ciri takes up her needle and thread, watches Seyn attentively, listens to Letho's advices and starts with Geralt's shirt. Seyn reckons that her father will not complain if she botches her work. Letho deems her first attempt passable and hands her a pair of Ivo's socks with holes at the toes.

The evening passes quickly after that and is rather more enjoyable than what she expected. And a few days later, she helps Geralt and Eskel with the laundry when it's their turn and pesters Zorn when it's his turn in the kitchen so that the Cat can show her some of his tricks.

She somehow ends up tagging along with Vesemir and Serrit for several afternoons as they make candles and soap too. It's not bombs, but useful all the same and she quite enjoys working with her hands. And each time she loses a bet, she chooses the mending or the laundry as her forfeit, she gets rather good at darning clothes and as winter progresses, she gathers a rather honorable pile of coins.

And two weeks after the wedding, Ciri gets a wonderful idea, at least she thinks so. She's noticed that the witchers are mostly used to living together by now, but the Wolves still are awkward sometimes. So Ciri devises a game. A game that'll be played in teams thoughout the keep.

She goes to Jaskier and Seyn to help her organize it and they spend a week brainstorming together to make her idea bear fruit. It takes them another week to put everything into place and by the third day, everyone in the keep knows that the humans are up to something.

It is true that they aren't exactly subtle. They commandeer four rooms on the first floor, that serve as storage and are cluttered with objects, boxes and old furniture, and forbid the witchers to enter them. They catch Wyff trying to get in a day later and Seyn drags him away by the ear. Ciri doesn't know what the man does or says to the witcher, but nobody tries to enter one of their rooms again.

Ciri then spends two days collecting one piece of clothing from each witcher, ranging from one of Geralt's old shirt, to one of Ivo's socks, to Zorn's scarf and to one of Vesemir's spare boot. There are twenty witchers in the keep and Ciri gives six items to Jaskier and Seyn each, takes six too and, after sending all the witchers out to train, they carefully hide them all over the keep. The two remaining ones are hidden outside, in the stables and the forge later in the evening.

Jaskier then pens eight riddles on eights pieces of parchment and hides them in the keep too, even Ciri doesn't know where he puts them. Seyn is then tasked with prying eight bottles of vodka out of Lambert's hands and they put them into Ciri's room waiting for them to be of use.

They deem everything prepared two weeks after they began organizing the game and she announces at supper that she wants to see everyone at breakfast at dawn on the morrow. The Cats, who're mostly lazy, moan but Seyn only has to look at them with disappointed eyes for them to assure her of their presence. Ciri beams at the witchers when they give her their word.

She's so excited she has trouble falling asleep and is awake even before dawn. She wakes Geralt up by jumping onto his bed, does the same with Eskel, and tugs them excitedly down to breakfast. She lets everyone eat and drink and slowly wake up, before standing up on one of the benches and grinning.

“Dear witchers !”, she exclaims and bows to her audience, “We, that is Jaskier, Seyn and me, organized a nice game for you ! With some bottles of vodka and the right to foist one of your chores upon a member of the losing team as prizes for the winning team !”

The witchers perk up at that and Jaskier grins at her.

“There are three steps in the game. First, you'll have to find the key from the room inside which you'll be locked, well not really locked, but we'll pretend. First team...”

Some groans erupt in the dining hall and Ciri smirks.

“... to escape will win six points, second team four points, third team two points and the last team nothing. Then you'll have to find the articles of clothing we asked you to give us, there are twenty hidden all over the keep, each one counts for one point. And finally, Jaskier hid eight parchments too, each containing one riddle. Find the right answer, win three points, answer wrong, lose two.”

“What happens if we find the riddle but don't answer it ?”, Heyn asks.

“Nothing,” Ciri answers with a shrug.

“So, as Cirilla said,” Jaskier intervenes, “you'll be playing in teams. Four teams of five and no, Lambert, you can't choose your teammates. Seyn will draw the names from a pouch.”

Ciri shows the pouch to everyone and presents it to Seyn who closes his eyes, rummages in it and gets a first name out. What the witchers don't know is that Jaskier carved little symbols onto the small nametags they made, so that the teams actually match what they decided in advance.

They still make it look like an honorable draw, but by the end of it she sees some witchers staring suspiciously at them, notably the Wolves. And yes, she can admit that separating them in four different teams isn't subtle, but it has the benefit of socializing them at least.

Nobody grumbles as they're lead to the four rooms in which they hid the four keys, and Ciri ushers Geralt, Coën, Heyn, Prethr and Del in the first, while Jaskier shows the way for Eskel, Serrit, Aiden, Jayn and Vanni and Seyn takes care of the last two teams, Lambert, Auckes, Mal, Berwyn and Wyff, and Vesemir, Letho, Ivo, Pierre and Zorn.

They close the doors on them and tell them that the game has begun. Ciri stays in the corridor outside the rooms with Jaskier and Seyn to check that the exiting teams really find their keys.

And as it turns out, staying in the corridor isn't boring in the least. They can hear Coën and Geralt bitch at Prethr, who apparently decided to take a nap in the middle of the room, Eskel is apparently being clumsy each and every time Serrit so much as looks at him, and Berwyn can be heard pleading to be allowed to leave while Lambert, Mal and Auckes bicker in the background. Vesemir's team is quiet and seems oddly efficient, they maybe should have put Mal in there instead of Pierre or Zorn.

Naturally the first team to find their key is Vesemir's and Pierre proudly presents the key to them. Ciri giggles when he bows before her and claps for them. Jaskier allows them to pass by and informs them that they can search the whole keep except the bedrooms and the room they use to do the laundry.

The two Cats then excitedly drag their teammates away and Ciri sees Vesemir and Letho exchange an exasperated glance. She winces and hopes that they'll still have fun, even if running around looking for clothes isn't exactly how they wanted to spend their morning.

Eskel's team is next and Ciri ends up laughing when Serrit stops in the corridor and Eskel, apparently distracted, walks right into his back. Jaskier pats the Wolf's shoulder and Seyn exchanges a smirk with Aiden, Jayn and Vanni, Ciri just knows that there's a bet somewhere.

Geralt's team is third and as they leave, they can hear Lambert, Auckes and Mal start to brawl into their own room. Ciri winces when something crashes on the floor and breaks. Wyff joins Berwyn in his pleading and Ciri wonders if it wouldn't be better to give them a clue. But before she can voice her idea, loud noises erupt from further away in the keep – it sounds like several people are chasing each other – and Ciri sighs.

“I'll check it out,” Seyn says, heads for the trouble and points at the last door before adding, “And do something about that, will you ?”

Jaskier nods at her and Ciri creeps to the door. She can faintly hear who she thinks are Berwyn and Wyff next to the door, while in the background furniture is rapidly breaking.

“Inside the chimney,” Ciri whispers.

“Oh, _thank you_ !”, Ciri hears Berwyn exclaim.

They soon all troop out of the room and look only slightly the worse for wear, it sounded worse than it was then. Jaskier and Ciri give them the last pieces of information and let them go with a sigh of relief. Ciri peeks into the room, winces and closes the door firmly behind her.

“That bad ?”, Jaskier asks with a grin.

“It looks line a hurricane passed through.”

“Ouch. Well, nothing important is in there, so it's not that bad. Oh, Seyn, you're back. What happened ?”

“Geralt, Coën, Aiden and Lambert's smallclothes happened,” Seyn says and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We didn't hide any smallclothes,” Ciri grimaces.

“No, we didn't,” Seyn confirms, “You don't want to know, believe me. But we might consider adding three points for Lambert, he deserves it.”

“Okay,” Jaskier says slowly.

And then a loud crash can be heard in the keep and the three of them wince.

“Ah, yes, apparently it's more fun to steal the items a team already discovered than to look for the rest of them.”

“Is stealing allowed ?”, Jaskier asks Ciri.

“I don't know,” Ciri murmurs back, “We didn't say that it wasn't.”

“Because we didn't think that they would do it,” Seyn says as someone yells in the background, “We maybe should have.”

“It's probably too late to implement a new rule anyway,” Jaskier points out sensibly.

Ciri and Seyn nod and they all head for the trouble. When they reach the entrance hall, they find utter chaos. Geralt sprints past them with Prethr thrown over his shoulder, and the old witcher is holding Zorn's scarf, Pierre and Vanni are wrestling on the stairs and Letho is sitting on Coën. Ciri can faintly hear Lambert and Eskel arguing somewhere and then a sheepish Auckes appears.

“It wasn't me,” Auckes yells and disappears into the kitchen.

“Maybe the game wasn't exactly a _good_ idea,” Ciri finally whispers.

“Too late to regret anything,” Jaskier says wisely, “Come on, we'll settle in the kitchen, next to the fire, while they wreak havoc in the keep. We'll call them back for dinner and declare the winner then.”

So they settle next to the fire, prepare the midday meal together and watch amusedly as several witchers enter the kitchen and search the room. It's Mal who finds his own sock hidden behind some spices, and he disappears through the window when he's done. And when they finally reach the middle of the day, Jaskier and Seyn leave her to oversee the stew while they round up all the players.

They all end up in the dining hall and the witchers are watching each other warily when Ciri joins them. She's glad to note that except for some minor bruises or scratches, everyone seems fine. They share their meal in silence and Ciri steps onto the bench with Jaskier and Seyn when they're done.

“Time to see who's won,” Ciri starts, “Concerning the first part, Vesemir's team has six points, Eskel's four, Geralt's two and Lambert's has none.”

“Three for Lambert,” Seyn corrects her, “because of the _incident_.”

“What incident ?”, Lambert asks.

“Don't worry,” Aiden soothes him, while Geralt and Coën exchange a look and try to disappear behind Heyn, “I saved your smallclothes.”

“What ?”, Lambert shouts.

“Okay, three for Lambert” Ciri yells louder, “Next for the clothes. We have twenty articles of clothing. Del, how many does your team have ?”

“Seven and a half,” the Cat answers proudly and Geralt claps his back.

“And a half ?”, Ciri asks aghast.

“We have half of Letho's trousers,” Del says sheepish, “Prethr wouldn't let go when Serrit took hold of them.”

Ciri closes her eyes and has to work really hard not to laugh, she can just imagine the two witchers ripping the trousers apart. She hears Letho growl behind her and a giggle still escapes her.

“That'll be seven points for you and three for Letho because he deserves it,” Jaskier decides.

Vesemir's team ends up with two more points and the three granted to Letho, Lambert's with six and Eskel's with four. And then they ask for the riddles. It turns out that the eight parchments were found and none of them were even ripped, Ciri is so proud.

Eskel's team only found one, Geralt's and Lambert's two each and Vesemir's has three. They all answer them correctly too and Seyn adds the points to the scores he's keeping, before handing his parchment to Ciri.

“Dear witchers,” Ciri raises her voice over the excited whispers, “with twenty points, I declare Vesemir, Letho, Ivo, Pierre and Zorn as the winners !”

Jaskier and Seyn get up to hand the bottles of vodka over and Ciri claps politely for the winning team, while the other witchers all boo at them. The Cats bow to the audience, Letho flips them off and Vesemir and Ivo make do with a small smirk each. At least they still had fun, Ciri muses.

“With fourteen points, Eskel, Serrit, Aiden, Jayn and Vanni, I'm sorry to say that you've lost. Please see with the winners for your forfeits ! The other two teams you're both tied with fifteen points. And if you could please hand back the clothes you found, that would be lovely !”

“They cheated !”, Wyff suddenly exclaims.

“Not true !”, Zorn yells back.

“And you ripped my pants !”, Letho shouts back.

All of a sudden several big crashes make themselves heard and Ciri just knows that someone did something stupid. It sounds like several wardrobes or shelves falling apart and Vesemir is openly glaring now. The old Wolf only has to nod in Lambert's direction for the youngest Wolf to jump over the table and throw himself at Auckes.

Letho is only seconds behind him and he tackles Prethr to the floor. Geralt grins and winks at Ciri before joining the fray, and she jumps from the bench to the table to better encourage him. The other witchers soon join the fighters and the dining hall becomes one big arena.

“So, I don't think that we'll be organizing another game,” Ciri hears Jaskier comment.

“Probably not,” Seyn answers him.

“But it was fun !”, Ciri interjects, “Yes, go on Geralt !”

She continues to cheer loudly on Geralt and appreciates the chaos she managed to create without even meaning to. She's a little bit proud of herself, even if Vesemir or Jaskier would probably disagree with her.


	7. 2 : 2

Vesemir didn't know what to think when witchers first started to invade his keep, but he doesn't regret letting them in. They're mostly well-behaved, don't balk at helping to maintain the keep in good shape and provide good distractions when he just wants to escape his mentees' shenanigans.

It's also the first time in years that he has new sparring partners and he greatly enjoys the challenges some of them offer. He still hasn't yielded to any of them but conceded some draws to Letho, Ivo and Pierre. He usually stays away from Mal, because the man insists on using his own swords instead of the sparring ones, and he saw the nasty gash the Cat gave Auckes during one of their training sessions.

He exchanges cooking tips with Zorn, learns to braid Cirilla's hair alongside Geralt, shares his library with Serrit, Heyn and Vanni, takes care of the horses with Coën and Letho, who both love the animals dearly, mends clothes next to the great hall's fire when he loses some bets with the other losers, plays dice in the evenings with the witchers not liking Gwent and the ones Geralt and Eskel disgusted from the game because they're little savages.

On Lambert's insistence, he shows his greenhouse to Coën, who for a reason Vesemir can't fathom looks delighted at the sight. The Griffin drags Ivo to the greenhouse too and the three of them rummages around the nearby rooms to find some clay pots.

And then they repot some succulents plants into them, the only one still flourishing in the garden, and scatter them throughout the keep and the bedrooms. The unlucky person who annoys Vesemir too much then has the dubious honor of watering all the small plants during the day.

He learns that witchers can be utterly shameless too. His darling library gets defiled a lot in the first month, and Vesemir delights in trouncing the offending witcher party in the yard in the early morning. The Cats soon learn to relocate. He happens upon Wyff and Seyn in the corridors twice and is forced to dedicate a pool in the hot springs to sex after catching Ivo and Letho, and Vanni and Berwyn fucking in there within two days, he still hasn't completely forgiven them for that.

And he may be old but he's not blind or deaf. He knows that the witchers are being promiscuous, with the notable exception of Geralt, Eskel and himself. Not that Eskel hasn't had some invitations thrown his way, but he's apparently not feeling comfortable enough to take them on for now. Geralt's scowl is apparently a good deterrent and Vesemir himself seems to be too intimidating.

Everything changes three weeks after the wedding. Vesemir is enjoying a good long soak into the empty hot springs when he hears a ruckus in the corridor leading to them. He sighs because his peace is going to be horribly disturbed and watches with resignation as the Cats, Coën and Lambert all troop in.

They're all wet and roughhousing with one another and Vesemir is almost certain that their afternoon sparring session devolved into a snowball fight. He watches, amazed, as Lambert naturally jokes and laughs with the Cats and wonders if they wouldn't have been better off if they had followed his example and sought out their brethren earlier.

The newcomers all undress quickly and wash up perfunctorily before they join him in his pool. They soon start to splash each other and Vesemir only has to grunt one time for them all to subside. They then converse quietly together, keeping up with the latest bets or imagining new dares that they could suggest as wagers over their evening games of Gwent or dice.

Vesemir dozes for a while with their soft voices in the background and finally decides to head out when he almost falls asleep and drowns himself. It's not his finest moment. So he stretches his relaxed muscles and gets out of the pool. And then the Cats all fall silent and Vesemir can feel their stares on him.

“Oh, sweet Melitele,” he hears Berwyn say, “that scar.”

“Can it... really ?”, asks Zorn.

“How the fuck did he manage _that_?”, Jayn adds in a whisper.

“Ew,” Lambert finally intervenes, “Stop ogling my mentor, you perverts !”

When Vesemir turns back, Lambert and the Cats are engaged in a fierce water battle while Coën watches them carefully before being tugged into the brawl too. That leaves Mal, who's the only one still lounging comfortably in the pool and intensely staring at him, or rather at the claw's scar that begins at the small of his back and disappears between his ass cheeks.

Vesemir only raises an eyebrow at the Cat, who completely ignores him. He seems so enthralled by the scar that the Old Wolf starts to get uncomfortable and wraps a towel around his waist. Apparently the Cats never heard of the word discretion. And then the fighters finally calm down and alternately gaze at him and Mal.

“One week,” Vanni says.

“Three days,” Zorn contradicts.

“Two weeks,” Del offers.

“Never !”, Lambert yells back.

And Vesemir blushes, a first in a very long time, because he just now understands that they're betting on how long it'll take him and Mal to end up in bed together. He starts to dry himself to forget about the stupidity brewing behind him. He turns back one last time, just before exiting the hot springs, and catches Mal's eye. The Cat smirks at him, gives him a slow once-over starting from his feet and ending on his face.

“Three weeks,” Mal drawls slowly and deliberatly, and offers Vesemir a smug smirk.

Vesemir blushes again, doesn't really know if he even _wants_ to take the Cat up on his offer – he heard things ! –, hears Lambert splutter and the Cats laugh, and leaves. He doesn't want to deal with that in a room full of nosy witchers, this matter requires a bit of privacy to be pondered upon.

* * *

Geralt knows that something is bothering Vesemir, he just doesn't know how he can enquire about it, if he can help his mentor or if his input is even wanted. So he settles for keeping an eye on Vesemir and continues on as usual.

He spends his mornings either hunting alongside the Vipers or repairing the keep with his brothers, then he shares his meal with the others, listens to Ciri tell him about her morning practices, and then usually gives her sword lessons. When they're done, he seeks out someone to spar with and heads to the hot springs afterwards, where he often finds Ciri, Jaskier and the Bears.

The evening meal is a raucous affair that manages to make him smile, even if he'll deny it till the end of his days, and he sometimes is brought back to the days where the keep was full of Wolves. To his astonishment, he finds that he sometimes misses the good old days. Not the screaming and the pain of the trainees, of course, but the good-natured ribbing or the quiet evenings spent with a tankard of White Gull next to a fire in good company.

This same contented feeling comes back sometimes, when Ciri tugs him on the floor and forces him to sit close to Auckes or Del, and then demands stories that no one wants to refuse her, or on the evenings spent playing Gwent. He's overjoyed to find that Heyn, Zorn, Del and Seyn love the game as much as him and Eskel. They manage to put Auckes, Vanni and Ivo off the game with their heavy competitive streak – a fact he's rather proud of – and organize small tournaments between themselves.

When he's not feeling like spending an evening with the witchers, he usually ends up in his room with Ciri and Jaskier, and sometimes Eskel or Vesemir, learning to braid his daughter's hair, teaching Ciri to play Gwent or simply reading while his friend hums and composes or reads too nearby.

And then one day, Ciri doesn't appear for their scheduled sword lesson and Geralt goes looking for her. He's not overly worried, she must have seen something that piqued her interest and gone after it. He spots Lambert and Coën in the courtyard looking at something up the keep's wall and he approaches them.

“You've seen Ciri ?”, he asks them.

“Mm, yeah,” Lambert answers distractedly and points at the wall.

Geralt looks up and sees Ciri climbing said wall. He lets out a small curse. She already passed the windows of the second floor and is half a meter away from the next row of windows. At least she's with Aiden, he tries to reassure himself, the Cat knows what he is doing and he won't let her fall.

“How long have you been watching her ?”, he asks again.

“Ten minutes or so, she's quite a good climber” Coën answers and adds with a smile, “Well, I've been watching Ciri, Lambert has been rather focused on Aiden's ass.”

Lambert grumbles, flips Coën off but doesn't tear his gaze away from the wall. The sound of Aiden's laugh reaches them and Geralt sees the other two witchers smile.

“You're unbelievable,” Geralt grunts.

“To be fair Aiden's ass _is_ rather spectacular,” Coën continues with a smirk.

Aiden laughs again and Lambert is still looking at the fucking wall. Geralt rolls his eyes. He hears the sound of blades clashing together in the backyard and heads towards it, he needs a fucking distraction.

“Take care of her,” he says to them as he leaves, “Send her to me when you're done and she better not come back with any scratches !”

Coën waves him away with a smile and Lambert, the prick, doesn't even bother to answer him. He sighs and hurries towards the backyard. The sound of blades clashing is now a usual background noise in Kaer Morhen and Geralt is not alarmed, he just doesn't want to miss a good show.

When he arrives in the courtyard, he spots Eskel lounging against the old forge's wall and joins him quickly. There are several other witchers scattered around the courtyard. His gaze finally ends up on the fighters and he curses.

“What the fuck ! After all the time Vesemir spent nagging us about using sparring blades, he decides _now_ to forgo his own orders ?”

“Apparently it's a courting ritual,” Eskel says with a shrug, “Mal likes to spar with the person he's interested in.”

Geralt sighs and closes his eyes, he hadn't needed to know that. He opens them when the two blades collide again and watches as the Cat swiftly wirls away from Vesemir.

“Who's winning ?”, Geralt asks.

“Hard to say,” Eskel answers, “Vesemir's a bit more skilled, I think, but he's got trouble landing a hit what with Mal being so quick on his feet. I thought Aiden was fast, but Mal's clearly faster.”

They watch the two of them exchange a few more blows, before Mal launches a serie of quick attacks that Vesemir clearly has trouble to deflect, and then draws blood. Geralt doesn't see the strike that does it, but he smells his mentor's blood, and he startles badly. He takes a step away from the wall he's resting against, growls threateningly, is vaguely aware of Eskel following him, and is prevented to join the fight by the three Vipers that are suddenly blocking his line of sight.

“Move,” Geralt growls at Serrit, who's right in front of him.

He unsheathes his sword, a heavily dulled one because he was supposed to be sparring with Ciri, not with another witcher, and then calms down because he smells Mal's blood. Apparently Vesemir got even.

“Don't overreact,” Letho says at him and Eskel, “Old Wolf will be fine. What's the point of killing him if the damn Cat wants to get in his pants ?”

“And he needs to draw blood on _purpose_ for that ?”, Eskel hisses next to him.

“It's a rite of passage,” Auckes answers with a smirk, “Vesemir knew exactly what he was getting into when he agreed to fight Mal. He's not stupid, he asked around first.”

Geralt and Eskel harrumph at the same time, and the Vipers freaking smile mockingly at them.

“Don't worry,” Serrit adds, “We've all been through it and didn't come out wanting.”

“All ?”, Eskel squeaks and Geralt finally takes a step back.

“Except you three Wolves, I guess. But Vesemir's almost done and Mal wants to complete his collection by the end of the winter. There are bets about you two and him,” Letho explains with a predatory grin, “Don't let us down, okay ?”

Geralt scoffs in disbelief, sheathes his sword again and takes his place against the forge back, Eskel and the Vipers join him, and they concentrate on the fight again. Geralt spots blood dripping from Vesemir's sword hand, nothing alarming, and Mal has a bloody mouth but is still smiling. It apparently doesn't bother him that his opponent got one hit in.

Now that they're both bloodied, the fight slowly winds down, before Vesemir surprises Mal by launching a new serie of quick attacks. He moves forward, feints, dodges, parries, ends up right in Mal's space and sweeps his feet from under him. Geralt can see the Cat's eyes go wide as he goes down and hears Auckes let out an impressed sound.

“Damn,” Serrit agrees, “He's good.”

Mal still manages to knock Vesemir's sword out of his hand, loses his own in the scuffle and Geralt has the weird honor of seing his mentor _brawl_. Vesemir has always been rather vocal in his disapproval when he and his brothers wrestled together, and here he is, rolling around on the ground, trying to make the Cat eat dirt like a man possessed. Geralt shakes his head in clear disbelief.

“What is the old man _doing_?”, Lambert suddenly asks.

Geralt doesn't flinch but he's still surprised by his appearance, he didn't hear him approach.

“Go, uncle Vesemir !”, Ciri yells next to them and they all snort around her.

Apparently that is all it takes for the Cats to start cheering on their leader and when finally Vesemir manages to pin down the slippery Cat, Geralt cheers alongside his daughter and brothers. And then Mal, unconcerned by the dagger held at his throat, lifts his head with a savage grin and steals a kiss. Eskel whines at his side, Lambert splutters and Geralt quickly steers Ciri away.

“Come on, courtyard is full. We'll train inside. And you must be freezing after your climbing stunt.”

“It was nice. I reached the roof ! Aiden said we could do it again. Will you climb with me too next time ?”

“If you want,” Geralt agrees, “But we're asking Aiden to come with us, he's probably better at it than I am.”

“Of course. Now come on, race you to the training salle !”

Geralt lets her win the race, because he likes the sound of her laugh when she wins, and they slowly but surely get warmed up together. Eskel and Lambert join them as they finish their stretches and Geralt snorts when he sees their pale faces.

“Not funny,” Eskel growls and takes a training sword off the wall, “More like horrifying.”

“Uncle Eskel,” Ciri intervenes when Eskel plants himself in the middle of the room, “You can't spar with us yet. Geralt says that you always have to do some warm-ups first.”

“Oh, for f... Melitele's sake,” Eskel grumbles but dutifully stands aside to do some stretches.

Lambert joins him with a roll of his eyes and Geralt smirks at them. He then motions for Ciri to take her place, faces her and lets her open the spar.


	8. 2 : Interlude : Gossip

Geralt is playing Gwent against Jaskier and Ciri, in his room because he's not in a social mood tonight, when hurried knocks rattle his door. He sighs, abandons the game and goes to see who needs him at this fucking hour.

He finds Lambert, Aiden and Coën on the other side of the door. Eskel is leaning against the doorframe of his own room across the hallway with a smirk on his face. Geralt flips him off when his brother enthusiastically waves at him, he swears that he can feel the stupidity brewing in the corridor.

“What do you want ?”, Geralt grunts at Lambert.

“We're looking for asylum,” Lambert explains, “Can we sleep with you tonight ?”

“Fuck no !”, Geralt exclaims and tries to slam the door in his brother's face.

Aiden blocks the door and Eskel laughs at him from the other side of the hallway.

“But Geralt,” Lambert honest to the gods _whines_ , “You don't understand, Vesemir is having sex !”

Geralt strains his ears but doesn't hear a sound coming from his mentor's room. And why would Lambert want to share with him then ? He has a perfectly fine room on the second floor.

“I don't hear anything so you shouldn't either if you go sleep in your room. Which is located two floors down.”

“He's having sex two floors down, asshole,” Lambert grumbles, “In the room right next to ours. And I don't want to hear my fucking mentor moan all night long !”

“Don't care. You're not sleeping here.”

“Geralt ! Please ! He's having kinky sex !”, Lambert continues to whine.

“How do you know that he's having _kinky_ sex ?”, Geralt asks before he can stop himself.

Eskel guffaws and Geralt hears Jaskier come up behind him.

“Did someone say kinky sex ?” the bard asks and looks expectantly at the three morons standing outside his door.

“Mal got him into his bed, of course he's having kinky sex !”, Lambert exclaims and Geralt regrets asking.

“Do you think that he tied him up to the bed too ?”, Aiden wonders.

Jaskier lets out a little squeal of delight and Geralt catches Eskel's eye, they both look horrified. Coën rolls his eyes and Lambert seems to seriously ponder the question. _What the hell_ , Geralt thinks.

“Too ?”, Coën then asks with a blank face before Lambert can share his conclusions and traumatize Geralt further.

Geralt is ready to close the door, he really is, because he doesn't need to be privy to his brother's business, even if he tends to overshare by himself, but Jaskier swats his hand away from the door. The bard seems enthralled by the drama unfolding in front of them and at least someone is having fun here, Geralt thinks.

“Don't tell me you never slept with Mal !”, Aiden exclaims and Lambert nods along the Cat.

“And it totally was befofe the three of us were serious !”, his brother then adds quickly when the Griffin's face doesn't soften.

“You should really give him a try if you never did,” Aiden continues despite the fact that Lambert is now slapping his arm rather urgently.

Getalt can't take his eyes away from the trainwreck, and apparently neither can Jaskier or Eskel.

“It was one of Lambert's and I's best night of debauchery !”

“You're unbelievable,” Coën then sighs and adds with a leer, “Yeah, of course I slept with him too. I damn well know what you mean.”

“You asshole,” Lambert then snaps at Coën and punches his arm, “Don't you fucking scare me like that. And you,” he says to Aiden, “learn to take a fucking hint !”

“Where's the fun in that ?”, Aiden wonders.

Not a trainewreck then, Geralt decides and thinks for the hundreth time at least that these three idiots clearly belong together.

“But just go back, go back,” Jaskier then intervenes and Geralt wonders if he shouldn't just grab him and close the door, it probably would be safer for his mental health, “Are you saying that you two - you three ?- let Mal, creepy, dangerous, scary Mal tie you up to a bed ?”

Geralt groans in dismay and he hears Eskel echo him.

“He's not that bad,” Aiden interjects while Coën and Lambert just add two decisive “Yep” to the conversation.

“Uh, and you're still alive ?”

“Again, he's not that bad.”

“And quite a wonderful lover,” Coën adds.

“So can we sleep here ?”, Lambert asks again, “Knowing Mal they'll be at it for the entire night.”

“No,” Geralt grunts again.

“But you're my favorite brother !”

“He came to me first,” Eskel intervenes, “I told him to fuck off.”

“Traitor,” Lambert hisses at Eskel.

“You could always use Vesemir's room,” Geralt points out sensibly.

“NO !”, Aiden says strongly, “I already spent a winter with him mad at me. I'm not reiterating the experience.”

“Then go throw someone else out of their room for fuck's sake, and leave us alone.”

“No but I just can't believe it. Mal ? A good lover ?”

“Jaskier for fuck's sake, let it go !”

Geralt's exasperated exclamation is drowned under the sound of Eskel's laughter.

“Not just good, wonderful. And well, you could always try to proposition him yourself,” Aiden answers him.

“Mal won't be interested,” Coën interjects, “He doesn't have enough scars.”

“I wouldn't be so sure,” Lambert then says with a grin, “Before he decided to pursue Vesemir, he asked me if there was a chance for him to have both Jaskier and Geralt in his bed. At the same time.”

“Okay that's enough. This conversation is over,” Geralt decreeds, “Jaskier either you come in or you go out, but I'm closing that door either way. And stop laughing Eskel !”

“I wouldn't laugh so much, Eskel,” Lambert continues, “Mal would love to have you what with the...”

And he vaguely points towards the right side of Eskel's face where his scars are. That stops the laughter at least, even if his brother now sports a strange constipated expression on his face. Eskel abruptly turns back around and slams his door. Geralt follows suit after Jaskier gets back in. He hears the three idiots leave and lets out a relieved sigh.

“So why would anyone let someone tie them up to their bed ?”, Ciri pipes up from behind him and Geralt startles.

He had forgotten about Ciri. And he had thought that she would have been smart enough to stay away from that conversation. Apparently not.

“Hum...,” he flounders stupidly and clears his throat loudly.

“You know what, Cirilla ?”, Jaskier then intervenes, “You should ask Lambert that. He'll be delighted to answer you.”

“You're being odd again,” she says, crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes at them, “It's a weird sex thing, right ? I'll go ask Seyn then.”

Geralt opens his mouth to complain and then thinks about that idea. Seyn is – or was, he's not really sure – a whore. Geralt supposes that he knows these things, and he could probably explain them better to Ciri than him or Lambert. He'll try to tag along for that conversation though, just as a precaution. He nods and then tugs Jaskier and Ciri back towards the fire and their game of Gwent.

* * *

After he puts Ciri to bed and Jaskier disappears towards his own room, Geralt puts one last log into his fire. He already has one foot in his bed when a new knock disrupts him again. He grumbles and opens the door to find a sheepish Jaskier on the other side.

“What ?”, he grunts at his friend.

“I got thrown out of my room. Can I sleep with you ?”

“Oh for fuck's sake,” Geralt sighs, “Wait here, I'll throw the three assholes out and you can have your room back.”

“It's not them. It's Heyn and Auckes. And they seemed busy if you know what I mean.”

“And you're just going to let them fuck in your bed ?”

“Well they did promise to change and wash the sheets. And I kind of owe Auckes ?”

Geralt groans and opens his door wider. Jaskier steps in with a small smile.

“So what ? Aiden, Coën and Lambert decided to throw one of them out ?”

“No. Serrit was the lovebirds' victim and he decided to throw Auckes and Heyn out of the Viper's room. The Bear's room was occupied by Pierre and Seyn.”

“Aren't the Cats supposed to be on the second floor ?”, Geralt asks with a pensieve frown.

“ _Yes_. But apparently Mal and Vesemir are weirding the Cats out and they're emigrating. I heard that there was some moaning and whimpering and possibly some eager begging taking place.”

“Oh, _shut up_ ,” Geralt whines, “I don't want or need to know that !”

“You big baby,” Jaskier teases, “Anyway Wyff, Zorn and Jayn stole Serrit's room and Letho threatened everyone who'd try to share with him with gelding. And nobody wants to share with Ivo, because the man apparently kicks in his sleep. The other Cats are now occupying previously empty rooms on the third and first floor.”

“How do you know all that ?”, Geralt wonders.

“I asked, duh.”

“Who ? The busy couple ?”

“No. Del, who was trying to sneak into Eskel's room.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Geralt swears and heads for the door again to check on his brother.

“Don't worry, Eskel aarded him hard enough that he left in a hurry.”

“That pun was horrible.”

“If you say so,” Jaskier says with a smile and shrugs.

He heads for the bed and gets in on the farthest side from the door. Geralt follows him and grunts a quiet _goodnight_ at his friend. The silence lasts for a few seconds before Jaskier breaks it.

“Geralt ?”

The witcher hums to let him know that he is listening.

“Are all of you witchers... I mean Vesemir and Mal. Aiden, Coën and Lambert. Heyn and Auckes. Seyn and the Cats. And I heard Del boast about having been in Letho's and Serrit's bed... Do you all prefer men ?”

“For how long have you wanted to ask that now ?”, Geralt sighs.

“A while.”

Geralt hums again.

“Okay, fine. It was when we first started placing bets about everybody's sex lives. So ?”

“We tend to be more flexible than most men or women,” Geralt explains quietly, “Most of us grew up with only men around and women aren't always willing to take us on, so we take what we're offered. And sometimes familiarity is comforting. And seeing as we are long-lived, it seems natural for us to turn towards our brethren.”

“Oh. So have you ever ? With one of them ?”

“Not with any of our guests. But before the sacking, I had... people,” Geralt grunts and adds softly for Jaskier's benefit, “We tried it once after with Eskel. Didn't work out, it was too gross and disturbing kissing my brother.”

“And not interested in the others ? Mal ?”, Jaskier asks and Geralt can hear that he is smiling.

“Fuck no. Don't think I would feel comfortable enough. Would be too on edge. And you ? Interested in anyone ?”, Geralt asks because apparently the timing is right for a few confessions.

“Me ?”, Jaskier laughs, “Oh, no ! Don't get me wrong, I tried almost everything at Oxenfurt in my student years and I know what I want and what I don't. It doesn't bother me to be watched by men, to be ordered about in the bedroom by my conquests' husbands a little or to share a woman, but I'm not interested in a man's touch. It doesn't do anything for me and I tend to panic the further down my body they go.”

Geralt hums again.

“So no witchers for me either,” Jaskier sighs, “And I would sincerely piss myself if Mal ever came up to proposition me !”

Geralt snorts but he understands where Jaskier is coming from, and to be fair, the Cats still sometimes unsettle him too.

“We need to think about asking a willing and interested woman to join us the next time we're doing this,” Jaskier says between yawns, “because all the sexual tension is killing me. First stop in spring will be a _brothel_.”

“I'll make sure to accommodate your needs when we leave then.”

“Har har, don't pretend that you won't be interested in a warm willing body too. Thanks for humoring me about this conversation. I know that you're not one for gossiping.”

“Mm, I'm beginning to see the benefit of it. It's not so horrible having the keep full of life again.”

“Glad you think so. I would hate for you to spend a miserable winter.”

“Can't be miserable. Ciri's here. You're here. Family's here. There's good food and booze.”

“You're right. That's good. Goodnight Geralt,” Jaskier then says and yawns again.

Geralt yawns too and closes his eyes. He falls asleep with Jaskier's steady breathing lulling him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was very fun to write too!  
> Hope you liked it!


	9. 2 : 3

Eskel can finally concede that the other witchers aren't so bad. He already had had a taste of it last year when Lambert had brought Aiden and Coën with him. It had taken him a while to get used to them, but it had turned out that they really were nice. Mostly. When they weren't being insufferable around Lambert.

And this winter he has had to get over his sort of shyness, still mostly blunders around Serrit really because he can't quite get their first encounter out of his head, but is mostly glad Coën dragged them all to the keep.

He finds out that Letho quite likes animals and they sometimes play with Lil'Bleater together, occasionally Ciri, Seyn and Jaskier join them and they spend a pleasurable afternoon cuddling his goat and gossiping together.

He teaches Ciri how to milk goats under the Viper's amused stare too and both of them spend a large amount of time running after the damn three-legged goat, because nobody else gives a shit about her. He ends up in charge of all the goats of the keep really, and curses the Cats several times every day. He'll have to see if Vesemir doesn't want to make a stew with one of the goats, because they're utterly exhausting and mostly useless.

He has new Gwent opponents, new sparring partners and loves to play – even if they don't call it playing where Vesemir can hear them – with his signs with Berwyn and Pierre, who are as good as him. And if some witchers, passing by their training ground, end up with singed hair, well, it's for a good cause. A good betting cause.

Even the chores are less of a hassle with more people around and Ciri certainly brightens the keep's days. And when he's feeling overwhelmed, he can still retire to his room or Geralt's for a quiet evening.

From his youngest brother, Eskel doesn't see much outside of the times they spend working or sparring together. Lambert spends a lot of his time around his husbands, with Ciri or around the other witchers, with whom he's clearly comfortable. But they still sit next to each other at supper, exchange a few jokes, make fun of Geralt and often watch each other's backs in the brawls.

He's slowly getting used to the fun and stupid parts of the grapevine too. He mostly prefers to hear about the latest hot gossips and doesn't share much, but eagerly participate in the wide-scale betting that is taking place in the keep.

The only thing he has trouble with is the promiscuity. It clearly shows that the witchers all have known each other for years. There are some undercurrent tensions here and there, between Heyn and Serrit, or Zorn and Letho for example, and some relationships that clearly span several years, be it friendship or something more. And they all know how to navigate around them, whereas Eskel still has trouble with it sometimes.

He's not the only one, he knows Vesemir had to rearrange some plans when he wanted to make Letho and Zorn or Heyn and Auckes work together. He had been informed by some concerned parties that these pairs wouldn't accomplish much together, albeit for very different reasons.

And Eskel has received a few interested propositions, some that he was even tempted to say yes to, but he hasn't agreed to anything yet because he doesn't want to walk on anybody's toes. And he refuses to go to Lambert about it.

And the one time he kissed Serrit – after slipping on the hot springs wet floor and ending up in his arms like a fucking moronic damsel in distress –, he had the displeasure to see Del pop up behind the Viper to growl at him, it had somehow dampened his enthusiasm.

So Eskel gets to work mapping all the witchers' interactions and is hoping to understand their working patterns perfectly by the end of the winter, and at least better in a few weeks so as to know who he could safely fuck during the rest of the cold months.

For now he's sure that Aiden, Coën and Lambert are exclusive, even if he heard something about an exhibitionism session in the hot springs that he tries very hard to forget about, that Seyn is exclusively sleeping with the Cats, with the exception of Mal and Aiden, that Heyn and Auckes are close and that Mal tends to sleep with any witcher available and interested.

And he knows that he's on Mal's list, his name right next to Geralt's and Vesemir's, he just didn't think that any of them would take him up on his offer. Mal had tried to approach Eskel, had stared creepily and hungrily at his scars for a while, before relenting when Eskel kept pushing him away.

Then Vesemir falls for the Cat's trap and Eskel starts to think about Mal's offer again when he sees his mentor looking relaxed and unharmed the day after. So apparently the Cat isn't so scary and can be somewhat trusted. Mal clearly spots Eskel's contemplating stares too and starts to circle around him again. He shares every hunt Eskel joins, watches him spar in the afternoons and sits right in front of him at supper, much to Lambert's amusement.

And Eskel's curious. He knows that there _must_ be something particular about Mal if all the witchers agreed and still agree to share his bed. The problem is that he doesn't know what exactly, and what little he knows bothers him a little. Mostly he knows that the Cat likes scars and well, Eskel doesn't understand why anyone would find his scars interesting or arousing. He certainly doesn't like them.

So Eskel knows that he'll have to ask someone. He refuses to go to Vesemir or Lambert about it, it would be too awkward, Geralt is probably as clueless as him, if not more, and he doesn't really feel confident about the answers the newcomers' would give him. That leaves Aiden and Coën.

He finally decides to seek out Coën two weeks after Vesemir falls into bed with Mal. He'll reach out to Aiden if he finds the Griffin's answers lacking. So he kidnapps Coën one afternoon and leads him towards the armoury, because the room is usually empty and unused.

“It's about Mal, right ?”, Coën asks him with a smile after a few seconds of Eskel trying to find his words.

“Yes,” he sighs back, “I don't know... Crap, why ?”

“Because he's very good in bed,” Coën answers with a shrug, “No other reason.”

“That I can believe,” Eskel agrees, “But there's something... unusual too.”

Coën laughs, sits on a table and pats the place next to him. Eskel joins him and waits.

“The first time I heard about Mal, it was because of Auckes. The Viper fucking _bragged_ about him. Told me that even if Mal had some weird quirks, it was all worth it in the end. He encouraged me to seek him out, said that I wouldn't regret it.”

“I'm not here to hear about your feats in the bedroom !”

“No, but you need to understand that I didn't really know Mal then. I knew the Caravan, tended to avoid them really, but Auckes got my interest piqued. Naturally I was still puzzled and wanted to know more, so I asked around just as you're doing now. And let me tell you that even in the beginning of the grapevine, Mal quickly got a reputation.”

“And what did you learn ?”, Eskel grumbles, tired of waiting.

“That Mal is peculiar. He likes scars. You already noticed that, right ?”

Eskel hums, he had.

“So be aware that if you accept his invitation, he'll get his fingers and his mouth and probably his spend on them.”

“His spend ?”, Eskel asks aghast, and rubs at his facial scars.

“Maybe not on your face. Well, if I were you, I'd still tell him not to spread it on your face if you don't want it, just to be sure. He'll listen. But your back, your chest, your thighs maybe, sometimes even your legs, they're all fair game to him.”

“What happens if I don't want it ?”

Coën shrugs, offers him a smile and squeezes his shoulder.

“He won't force you. He might appear coarse but he knows what no means. What you need to understand however is that he _likes_ scars, he expects to be able to touch and lick them during the night. If you're not into it, you better not agree to anything at all.”

“Anything else ?”, Eskel asks after a while.

“He likes to tie his partners up,” Coën says with a smirk and Eskel recoils.

“So it's true ?”

“Yep, but it's mild. He won't truss you up uncomfortably, usually only goes for the hands really, unless you ask for more, but again it's his thing.”

“And you really let him ? Lambert _really_ let him ?”

“Sure,” Coën says as if it was normal, “I mean, we were warned.”

“And what about what I like ?”, Eskel then asks defiantly.

“What about what you like ?”, Coën asks back, puzzled, “Just tell him. He's got the reputation of a _good_ lover, Eskel, he's not looking to make your night shitty, on the contrary. Listen, you're uncomfortable about your facial scars, tell him to make do with his fingers. You want his cock, tell him. You don't want his cock, tell him. You just have to find a compromise so that everyone leaves the bedroom happy in the morning. And if you're really not interested, tell him too, he'll back off.”

Eskel hums again.

“And the sparring match ?”

“Oh ! That is a rite of passage. He's looking to leave a scar. He'll pay particular attention to it during your tryst. Again, he likes it, but it can be a good deterrent. It's your call wether you want to agree to it for a one night stand or not.”

“I'm still not sure.”

“It's your choice, really. I don't think that anybody regretted ever going to bed with Mal, and you know everything, but in the end it's _your_ choice. And if you're not comfortable sleeping with Mal, well Del sure is interested too and Serrit finds your blundering around him mostly cute and amusing so...”

“Oh, fuck you,” Eskel grumbles, “I'm not doing it on purpose.”

“Still funny as hell,” Coën smirks at him, “And if you want more details, go to Wyff, he perfected an introductory speech about sex with Mal a few years ago, completed by examples and some drawings that he'll be more than happy to share with you.”

“You're kidding !”

“Oh, no, Wyff is just weird like that. I'd recommend you skip the drawings, they're somewhat scary. Now, not that this conversation hasn't been entertaining, but I had an appointement with Vesemir and Ivo about repotting some succulents so I'd better go.”

Eskel hums and waves him away.

“Not a word to Lambert about this conversation !”, Eskel yells after the Griffin when the man reaches the door.

Coën laughs and Eskel sincerely hopes that it means that their conversation will stay private. He doesn't need his brother to know about that. Eskel then sighs and lies down on the table in the middle of the armoury, he still doesn't know what to do.

He falls asleep accidentally and is woken up by someone poking him in the shoulder. He rolls over and is greeted with the sight of Mal's stupid grinning face when he finally opens his eyes. He yelps, falls down the table and sweeps the Cat's feet from under him when he hears him laugh at him. They grapple for a few minutes before Letho's loud call for dinner interrupts them and they decide to go up. Eskel lets Mal slap his shoulder in passing and follows him out of the room. He'll think about the Cat's offer some more tonight.

* * *

After Del makes the weird blundering Wolf _flee_ , Serrit rounds up and punches his shoulder hard.

“What the fuck was that ?”, he growls unhappily at him, because he finally had the skittish Wolf exactly where he wanted him and the Cat destroyed all of his efforts in a second.

“My interested in a threesome growl,” Del explains sheepishly, “I don't think that Eskel quite understood it like that.”

“Bullshit,” Serrit grunts, “What did you bet ?”

“Oh, fine,” Del sighs, “I bet that Mal would get to him first and that you'd be second.”

“Asshole. You better share your winnings with me then, or I'm reporting your beheviour to the others and we'll see what they'll think about your meddling in the bets.”

“Fine,” Del says and points at Serrit's chest, “but I really want in if you and the Wolf are interested in a threesome. After Mal, of course.”

“You're hopeless,” Serrit sighs, “Come on, the fuck pool's empty, fancy a soak and a romp ?”

“Sure,” Del agrees easily, “After you.”

* * *

Lambert is rather glad that this winter turned out so fine. He was doubtful of Coën's idea at first, he's not afraid to admit it, but it turned out good, even great. Nobody got hurt, everybody mostly got along, he got to spend some quality time with his husbands, got married again, and his brothers and mentor finally got to socialize themselves.

He was a bit apprehensive, wondered if Vesemir would even allow everyone into the keep, but Geralt's kid and Jaskier clearly helped integrating everyone. The fact that Ciri was Geralt's and not Jaskier's didn't even cause a problem, Lambert's damn proud of everyone's level-headedness.

And if he loses a bit of money or has to pick up some of the other's chores, well it's the hazard of betting. He still wins sometimes and has the privilege to watch the Bears try to set up the ugliest gargoyles he's ever seen onto Kaer Morhen's walls after they lose to him. _That_ is a damn good day.

He shares his alchemy room with Jayn, who apparenlty likes to distill alcohol too. He builds bombs with Auckes. He watches Aiden gleefully inhaling several apple pies over winter and Coën enjoying his hobby of caring about plants with Vesemir and Ivo.

Lambert doesn't really understand Coën and still wonders what made him think that keeping his first potted plant was a good idea, but if the Griffin's happy, then he's happy too. He just has to keep remembering to be careful when manipulating Coën's belongings, he can be oddly protective of his little plants.

So all in all it was a nice winter. Of course he wouldn't want to have to endure all the witchers' presence every winter, but once in a while would be pleasant. He'll try to sell the idea to Coën in a few years, if the Griffin doesn't think about it himself first, and push him to invite everyone over again. They'll just have to make sure to go up the trail way before or way after the Cats, so as not to be caught up in their stupid decisions.

And as winter slowly comes to an end, they all start to get restless. They train a bit more, hunt a bit more often, pamper their horses and when the Cats start to check their carts, they all know that they'll all have to leave soon.

And of course they are still a few bets to settle, notably about whether or not Vesemir will find the last remaining ugly gargoyle before they leave, about whether or not Ciri will finally manage to steal a purse from every person in the keep – she's still missing Ivo's and for a reason Lambert just can't understand Prethr's –, about whether or not the Cats will manage to leave their elder behind and the most interesting, about whether or not Mal will bag his two brothers before the end of winter.

After Vesemir succumbed to the Cat – much to Lambert's horror – he bet that Eskel would follow the old Wolf's example, he seemed too intrigued to Lambert to refuse the offer for long. On the contrary, he's almost sure that Geralt won't be interested and all the other witchers seem to agree with his point of view.

So when one afternoon Aiden comes to find Geralt and him while they're teaching Ciri to inform them that Mal and Eskel are sparring, Lambert is not exactly surprised. He shrugs, watches Geralt run out of the room in a hurry and hopes that he'll make some good winnings with his betting. And he'll maybe be able to double his hypothetical earnings by guessing when exactly his brother will disappear with the Cat. He bets on three days later.

And when on the fourth morning Eskel comes down to breakfast sporting a pensieve expression on his face, with a quickly fading love bite on his _facial_ scars and with Geralt and Vesemir glaring at him, they all know that he took up the Cat's invitation. By the time a smug Mal joins them, they're all already haggling over their winnings, to Eskel's mortification, and they all fall silent when the Cat sits down right across Geralt.

Mal puts his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his hands. He smirks at Geralt, offers him an eyebrow waggle and Jaskier snorts from his seat next to his brother. Geralt just glares at the Cat and brings his mug of tea to his lips while keeping his unflappable gaze on Mal.

And then Geralt startles on his seat, swears because he ends up with hot tea on his lap and the Cat's smirk widens. Lambert will learn a few hours later that Mal had firmly pressed his foot to Geralt's and that it had somewhat spooked his brother. With such an ominous beginning in the courting process, Lambert feels reassured in his faith that Geralt won't give in.

And then the bastard decides to be contrary, because Eskel _meddled_ , and Lambert is even robbed of the pleasure of yelling at him for the betrayal. Two days before the Cats have decided to depart, Geralt finally takes Mal up on his offer for a spar. And he completely destroys the Cat on the training ground. The sight of it is oddly pleasing and Mal doesn't even seem to hold it against him.

At the end of the spar, when Geralt has Mal pinned on the ground and is still scarless, Mal bares his teeth, growls and lurches forward. He catches Geralt on the right side of the neck, bites down hard on the unprotected skin and tears his mouth away.

Most of the witchers let out a few disgusted sounds but there's not doubt that _that_ will leave a scar. Geralt howls in pain and punches the Cat in the face, so that Mal ends up with a bloody nose in addition to his bloody mouth. The spar ends after that and the two opponents go on their separate ways after exchanging a frosty handshake.

And the evening after that, when Lambert is giving Aiden a massage and watching the Cat kiss Coën and slowly get aroused, he first hears some grunts and then moans coming from Mal's room right next to theirs. He freezes over Aiden's back and ignores the sound of protest his husband lets out. He soon loses the hard on he's been carefully building up for the last few minutes when he recognizes Geralt's voice.

“Oh ! That's disgusting ! Keep your dirty paws away from my brother !”, he exclaims at the wall his room shares with Mal's.

The only answer he gets is a loud pleased whimper.

“Really Lambert ?”, Aiden then asks him.

Lambert blushes when he sees his husbands stare at him with fond exasperation and he abandons his spot over Aiden's back to flop down on the bed. He totally killed the mood, or rather his brother totally killed the mood.

They abandon their room for the night and decide to go steal Geralt's. Lambert grumbles all the way up, ignores the knowing smirk Vesemir directs at them when they pass him in the hallway and stomps inside his brother's bedroom. Coën and Aiden manage to get him in the mood again and they gleefully defile Geralt's bed and fall asleep in it.

Lambert is woken up in the morning by someone, probably Geralt, but refuses to open his eyes to see who exactly it is, he's far too comfortable being sandwiched between Aiden and Coën. The person collects a few belongings, opens the window despite their sleepy grumble and laughs as he heads outside. Lambert flips him off as he leaves and nudges Aiden until the Cat gets up to close the damn window.

When they finally get down to breakfast, smug Mal smirks at them and orders them to pay up because he completed his bet. Coën, who planned ahead, hands him six bottles of Lambert's homebrew with a defeated sigh and Mal shares his winnings with Eskel of all people.

“Traitor !”, Lambert hisses at his brother and takes a seat at the table.

“Lucky opportunist,” Eskel contradicts.

“ _Meddler_ ,” Lambert hisses back.

Aiden pats his shoulder in understanding, because he's nice, unlike his brother, and Lambert starts to pile his plate with food. He needs to enjoy the small pleasures Kaer Morhen has to offer while he still can.

“Ciri's not here ?”, Coën then asks.

“No,” Vesemir answers from the head of the table where he's darning some socks that he gives back to Jayn when he's done.

The Cat thanks his mentor and Lambert watches the interaction with bafflement.

“Geralt left this morning,” Vesemir continues, “with Jaskier, Cirilla and the Vipers. He said that you better clean his room up before leaving.”

“Wasn't Ciri supposed to stay here ?”, Lambert wonders and ignores the end of the sentence.

“Change of plans,” Vesemir offers with a shrug, “The sorceress called.”

“Why did they all leave this early ?”, Aiden asks.

“To avoid us,” Mal answers with a smirk.

Lambert shivers and looks around the hall. There are only the Cats and the Bears left. And the Cats will have to carry their fucking carts down the moutain again. A task for which they'll be sure to employ as many people as they'll be able to catch.

“Motherfucker,” Lambert swears and feels like he has been set up, “We're leaving ! We're leaving ! Right now !”

Lambert gets up and only manages to take a few steps towards the door before Jayn puts him in a headlock and brings him back to the table. He struggles and gets a few hits in but the Cat forces him back into his seat, and Lambert whimpers and knocks his head several times on said table. Aiden hugs him and Coën pats his shoulder gently.

When he raises his head again, Vesemir is smirking at them and Lambert wants to weep. Hasn't the first trip been enough ? Don't they deserve some kind of rest too ? To prevent the tantrum he feels coming, he launches himself at Wyff and starts a brawl in the hope of keeping his thoughts away from the fucking disaster waiting for them. It works for a while.

They end up lounging the entire day away in the hot springs and only come up for supper. Vesemir then forces them to clean Geralt's room, before he finally lets them head for their own bedroom. They spend one last delightful night together in the keep and Lambert refuses to get up in the morning.

Unfortunately the Cats take his refusal as a challenge and he ends up being dragged out of his room by his ankle. Coën saves him from Berwyn and Lambert agrees – under duress ! – to get dressed and to collect his belongings. He grumbles all through breakfast, swears violently at Eskel when his brother informs him that he's staying in Kaer Morhen for another week with the Bears, because Heyn apparently sprained his ankle the day before, and finally lets a few tears of frustration out when he sees the line of carts ready to depart.

“I hate everyone,” Lambert says to no one in particular in the courtyard.

“You can thank Coën for that,” Vesemir says back and pats his shoulder, “Have a nice journey.”

“You could always try to make a run for it,” Eskel proposes.

“Har har,” Lambert hisses, “maybe I'll ask Jayn to drag you with us. You could put those muscles to good use.”

“Can't. The Bears need a guide to go down the mountain.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Lambert snarls.

The Cats then all come to say goodbye, Aiden and Coën hug Eskel and Vesemir, and his husbands nudge him towards his family. He grumpily hugs his brother and mentor under everyone's amused stares, and Aiden thrusts his horse's reins at him when he's done. He really tries to linger behind, but Vesemir pushes him through the gates after a moment and he jogs up to Aiden and Coën who're waiting for him a few meters away.

“This is all your fault,” Lambert grumbles at Coën.

“Don't try to tell me that you didn't enjoy this winter.”

“Hey, you lovebirds !”, Mal then yells at them, “First boulder coming up, going to need those bulky arms of yours !”

“I hate him,” Lambert grunts, “Can we throw him off the mountain ? Aiden ?”

“Can't, Jayn would have to take over and nobody wants that.”

Lambert hums and steals a kiss from the Cat before turning towards the Griffin and doing the same.

“Oi, Sweet Lamb, we didn't ask for a _show_ ,” Mal roars at them, “Get your fucking asses up front or we're leaving Prethr with you when we reach the bottom of the mountain !”

“Oh, I'm pushing him off the moutain ! Just watch me !”, Lambert growls as Aiden and Coën laugh, and then he bellows back, “We're coming, you damn dictator !”

Aiden then tugs the both of them forward. They leave their horses with Seyn and jog to the front of the Caravan. They still have to wait a few minutes to reach the first boulder and then Lambert becomes too busy to continue to complain. He still silently makes a list of all his griefs, he'll share it with everyone over supper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's done! I hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> I wanted to thank all of you again! It was a pleasure to receive all of your comments and kudos!! You're all amazing!
> 
> I still have a few ideas for this series, I just don't know how or when they'll see the light! We'll see...
> 
> See you!!


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